This One's for the Dawn
by dauphinekathleen
Summary: Oliver Wood's best friend is a Hufflepuff named Madeline Palmer, and it's their seventh and final year at Hogwarts. Madeline's boyfriend is possessive, Oliver has protective instincts, and she tries to reconcile the two. Where will Madeline's loyal heart lie in the end?
1. Prologue

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

This story centers around Oliver Wood's childhood friend, Madeline Palmer, and her seventh year at Hogwarts.  
Other than the characters I've made up to give the story depth, including Madeline, everything is completely canon.  
Hope you enjoy! :3

* * *

There was nothing Madeline Palmer loved more than Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Growing up, Madeline had begged and begged for her parents to let her attend school as soon as possible. When she turned ten, she cried because she had gotten her hopes up that the letter might come a year early, as she had been assured by her great aunt Gwenog that she was terribly bright. So on every cake and every evening star, little Madeline Palmer wished to be able to go to Hogwarts as soon as possible. The day she turned eleven and finally received her letter, she cried again. She felt like her life was finally beginning.

Both of Madeline's parents had been Gryffindors, but they made no effort to persuade her that this was the best house; they rightly wanted Madeline to find her own path. They also hoped that her growing up as the best friend of Oliver Wood, whose parents had also been Gryffindors, would have a good influence on her. The two had been inseparable since they were very young, and their parents doubted very much that this would change as they went off to school. Knowing Oliver and Madeline would look after each other comforted their parents a great deal.

When the day came for Madeline to make her way to Hogwarts at long last, she awoke with a nervous twitch, causing her small body to jump. She had been dreaming about flying over the lake a few miles from their house. It was a little after 5 am, but Madeline thought she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, so she stretched and got out of bed. Anxious to get to Hogwarts and meet her future friends and classmates, Madeline had packed the night before, giving her nothing to do now except get dressed and go to the kitchen for breakfast. As she found her clothes, she noticed that her owl was awake. Her owl had been her 10th birthday present, as she had insisted on having the owl before she received her Hogwarts letter, if only just to prove that she could care for one. Her owl was the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on, in her opinion—it had large black eyes and wide, white and brown ringlets around them; its beak was small and curved, its face was round, and its glossy feathers were all white and brown. Madeline had named him Augustus, which Oliver Wood found to be a bit stupid.

Once in the kitchen, she fixed herself some toast and heard her parents moving about. They made their way groggily to the kitchen and made coffee.

"Maddie, it's 5:30 in the morning. Why are you awake?" her mother asked, moaning a bit.

"I couldn't sleep, and and I was hungry," Madeline replied.

Madeline's father grunted and slumped into the chair next to her, his head resting on the table. Madeline giggled.

"Dad, it's not _that_ early."

"The sun's not up," he said.

Madeline and her mother both laughed. After eating, Madeline took some toast up to Augustus. He didn't like being locked up and had squawked loudly when she had locked him in his bird cage. When he looked at her in the most mournful way, Madeline pouted and said, "I'm sorry. You know I have to. It's just for today, and then you'll be free to roam the grounds at Hogwarts. I bet you'll love it there."

Augustus turned his head from her and resumed staring out the window. Madeline sighed. "I know. I want to be there, too."

Madeline lied down on her bed and closed her eyes, hoping to find a few more hours worth of sleep. This time, she dreamed of being Head Girl, of playing Quidditch with Oliver, and of learning how to be a Healer; she saw herself kissing boys, taking romantic walks around the lake, and maybe even falling in love; she saw herself (older, prettier, and with longer, straighter hair) being the best Gryffindor of them all.

Too soon, it seemed, her mother was shaking her awake. Madeline didn't want to wake—the dream seemed too good to let go.

"Maddie, sweetie, we've got to go. Don't want to miss the train, do you?"

Madeline popped straight up. "I'm awake!"

Madeline's mother laughed and helped her daughter take her things to the sitting room. Madeline's father was going to see her off at King's Cross and then go to work.

"Ready, Maddie? Remember how to Floo?"

Madeline nodded eagerly as she took the powder from her father. She stepped up to the fireplace, threw the powder in, and after the flames turned green, she stepped in and said, "The Leaky Cauldron!" Her mother, carrying her owl, followed suit, and her father, holding her trunk, was the last to arrive. The small family then took a cab from the Leaky Cauldron to King's Cross. There, in between platforms nine and ten, Madeline stopped. She was about to begin her journey to Hogwarts. _It's finally happening._

"Henry! Olivia!"

Madeline turned around to see Oliver Wood's parents addressing her own. Oliver pulled his cart right up beside hers as their parents greeted each other.

"Alright, Maddie?"

Madeline nodded and looked at her best friend. He was only a little taller than her, but he somehow gave the impression of looking much bigger. His brown hair seemed to be freshly cut, but Madeline didn't stare too long, as she knew he was self-conscious about his hair, especially after being cut.

"And you, Oliver?"

"Good," he replied firmly. They were both nervously staring at the barrier and didn't notice their parents looking fondly at the pair of them.

"Want to run it together?" Oliver asked after checking his watch. They had twenty minutes before the train was to leave. Madeline's reply was a quick nod and a small noise that had been the word "yeah" before her mouth had smothered it.

"On three?" he asked quietly. Madeline nodded again. Then, before Madeline could make another nervous noise, Oliver counted, "One, two, three!"

They ran, perhaps a touch too quickly, through the barrier and onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. When they came out on the other side, they nearly ran into a couple trying to leave. Madeline and Oliver moved aside and stared at the Hogwarts Express. It was just as Madeline had always dreamed it would look: much like a scarlet bullet.

"Wow," was all she could say. Oliver was grinning, first at the train, then at Madeline, and finally at his parents as they made their way through the barrier. Once their belongings were loaded, Oliver and Madeline said goodbye to their parents. Madeline's mother had tears in her eyes when she hugged her.

"I'll miss you," Madeline said, smiling. She then gave her parents each a hug and took her seat on the train. Oliver came in a moment later looking just as she felt: nervous but more excited than anything.

"Reckon we'll both be in Gryffindor?" he said.

"Hope so," she said, smiling.

The train then began pulling out of the station, and Oliver and Madeline waved out of the window at their parents, who didn't disapparate until their children were gone from their sight.

"I wonder what our favorite subjects will be," said Madeline, her face scrunched up with thought. "I think I'll like Transfiguration. Mr. Ollivander said that my wand was good for it."

"I thought you wanted to be a Healer?" said Oliver.

"I do!" Madeline replied. "But what if I'm better at something else?"

"Ollivander said my wand was 'springy.' Not sure what that means."

As they were laughing, a girl came into their compartment with her trunk. She was shorter than both Madeline and Oliver, and she had pretty, straight, dirty-blond hair. Madeline was instantly jealous; her own hair was a dull brownish-red that was mildly wavy and didn't do much else.

"Hi," she said. "Er, I was wondering if I could sit with you?"

"Sure!" said Oliver quickly. He stood to help her stow her things.

"Thanks," she said, smiling. She sat next to Madeline. "I'm Claire, by the way. Claire Denson."

"I'm Madeline Palmer," said Madeline quickly. Her nerves had her nearly bouncing.

"And I'm Oliver Wood."

"Nice to meet you. Do you know each other already?"

Both Madeline and Oliver nodded, looking at each other. Oliver spoke; he usually did when they were together.

"Yeah, we're mates. Our parents are too."

"That's neat," she said, looking dispirited. "I don't know anyone. My parents aren't magic. It was quite a shock, I'll tell you. They thought my letter was a nasty prank by the kids at school. Professor Dumbledore showed up and everything. They're excited for me, now, though."

"You've met Dumbledore? Is he amazing?" asked Madeline, her eyes wide.

"He's _brilliant_. I'm so excited to start learning, but I'm nervous that I won't know as much since I'm... well, Dumbledore said I was 'Muggle-born.'"

"Well that's alright," said Madeline. "My mum told me loads of students are. It's not uncommon."

Claire's face brightened at these words, at the prospect of not being lonely. She beamed at Madeline.

"Do you know which house you prefer?" asked Oliver.

"I'm not sure, really. All I know is what was in _Hogwarts, A History_. Gryffindor seems to be the most popular, though, it's in all the stories—"

"That's the house our parents were in," said Madeline.

"My dad said he couldn't imagine being a Slytherin, but my mum shut him up. She said it'd be fine whichever I wanted to be in," said Oliver.

"So… they're all good?"

"From what I know," said Madeline with a nod.

"And when I was buying my supplies, I saw this broomstick store. What are those for?"

Oliver grinned and Madeline laughed as he began explaining Quidditch. Claire was properly horrified by the thought of such a dangerous sport, and they neglected to mention that it had an even more dodgy past. Madeline and Oliver were so excited about her seeing her first match that Claire couldn't help being curious. The discussion of Quidditch lasted until lunchtime, when a plump lady with a food cart came by. The three found their pocket money and Madeline instantly asked for Cauldron Cakes and Chocolate Frogs.

"What should I try?" said Claire, frowning. Oliver stepped out and pointed at the treats and began explaining. He too bought some Cauldron Cakes, but he skipped the Chocolate Frogs. Claire settled for nearly one of everything; she wanted to try as much as possible.

"I want to learn how to bake Cauldron Cakes," said Madeline through a mouthful of her cake. The three laughed and continued to eat happily. After all of the treats were devoured, the discussion turned to the one Claire was most nervous about: actually learning magic.

"I'm scared I won't be any good," she said once more, wringing her hands together.

Madeline put a hand on her shoulder. "Most of us are."

Soon the train was slowing down, and an older student poked their head in to tell them they might want to change, as they would be there soon. They all opened their trunks and pulled out a set of their uniforms. Oliver offered to leave so they could change. When he came back many minutes later, they were all in their Hogwarts uniforms.

"I can't believe we're finally here," said Madeline, who was actually bouncing now. Oliver and Claire, who were both laughing, felt calmer at seeing how nervous Madeline was.

"I wonder what I'll be good at," said Claire.

"It's like normal school," said Oliver, shrugging. "Everyone has their favorite subject."

"And some lads only like sports," said Madeline, grinning. Oliver stuck his tongue out at his best mate and then smiled.

"Quidditch does sound awfully dangerous," said Claire.

Then, before another word was spoken, the train had stopped. They made their way off the train and heard a man calling, "Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"

"That'll be Hagrid!" said Madeline with a bounce, and they made their way towards a large man who seemed to be simply _too big_.

"Hello," he said, beaming at them. He was holding a lantern in one of his massive hands, which illuminated his face oddly, but Madeline could see his eyes twinkling.

"Hi," said Madeline, grinning again. "I'm Madeline!"

"Nice ter meet you, Madeline. I'm Hagrid. We'll be taking the boats 'cross the lake."

The boats were large enough for Madeline, Claire, and Oliver to all fit, along with another first year, whose name was Richard Callaghan. He was as tall as Oliver, wore glasses, and had reddish-brown hair like Madeline. Claire felt like she had instantly made another friend: he had read _Hogwarts, A History_ as well. Then, when it came into view, all of them gazed in amazement of the breathtaking castle.

Madeline had known Professor McGonagall would be intimidating, but that still had not prepared her for seeing her for the first time. She was tall—so much taller than them all, in fact, that Madeline was a little scared. When she glanced at Oliver, she knew that he was thinking the same thing. Once in the Entrance Hall, waiting for the doors to the Great Hall to open, the four of them stood together neither saying much nor speaking to anyone else in the group of first years. There was a red-headed boy who was trying to introduce himself to everyone, but he was towards the back of the group. Professor McGonagall then opened the doors to the Great Hall and the first years filed in. As Madeline walked in behind Claire, she gazed around, the sight making her grin. It was _even better_ than she had imagined! The ceiling, which was a dusty navy, was surely opening up to the night sky!

The group made their way to the front, and McGonagall announced that as she called out their names, they would sit on the stool, and then they could join their House. Madeline hardly heard a word the Sorting Hat used during its song as her heart began beating rapidly, her thoughts centered on which House she wanted to be in. What if she _wasn't_ a Gryffindor? She didn't even really know why she preferred her parents' House.

After the Sorting Hat finished singing, it didn't take long for Richard's name to be called. He was sorted into Ravenclaw, as was a girl named Clearwater, Penelope. Clute, Murray was the first to be sorted into Hufflepuff, and then Claire's name was called. After a few moments sitting on the stool with the Sorting Hat, the hat announced that Claire was a Ravenclaw. Madeline smiled for her new friend, half wishing she was in Ravenclaw, too. Then she caught sight of Oliver's face, which was rather distraught. Had he hoped, as she had, Claire would be a Gryffindor?

A girl named Elaine was being sorted into Hufflepuff when Madeline's attention returned to the ceremony. After what seemed like ages of waiting, Madeline's named was called:

"Palmer, Madeline."

Madeline shot Oliver a look of terror, but he smiled and nodded, giving Madeline a brief rush of confidence, which was enough to propel her feet to the stool. She tenderly placed the Sorting Hat on her small head, not really knowing what to expect.

"Hmmm," said a soft voice in her ear. Madeline saw Oliver's face, took a deep breath, and felt calmer. This was not a time to panic. "Intellect is there, as is some courage. Plenty of ambition, too. Let's see. Of course, there it is. Unfailingly loyal, you are, my dear."

_Really?_ was all she could think. _Unfailingly loyal?_

"Oh, yes. You are a true Hufflepuff, one of the truest I've seen in many years," came the Hat's voice.

Madeline felt her heartbeat quicken. She was a Hufflepuff? _A true Hufflepuff?_ What did that mean? She thought she was a Gryffindor! Weren't Gryffindors loyal too?

"But my parents—and Oliver—" she thought quickly.

"Of course, if you'd rather be placed elsewhere..."

"But… I'm a _true _Hufflepuff? Are you _sure?_"

"Yes. So, if you don't mind, if you're not going to protest, I'll go ahead and—HUFFLEPUFF!"

Startled by the shout and the applause that followed, Madeline stood quickly and placed the Sorting Hat back on the stool. She looked towards the first years still waiting to be sorted and saw his face almost immediately. Oliver's mouth was slack with disbelief, and Madeline gave him a brief look of confusion, shrugged, and made her way towards the Hufflepuff table, which seemed genuinely happy to receive her. She sat next to the girl named Elaine and smiled at some of her older Housemates.

Madeline then watched as her best mate in the whole world was sorted into Gryffindor.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Early Morning Breakfast**

"You _know_ I'm right," she said, still laughing. Oliver shook his head, but he was grinning. After a few moments of laughter, Madeline came to her senses. "Why did you really come here?"

"I wanted to apologise, actually," he said, his left hand on the back of his neck. "You know, for not telling you."


	2. Early Morning Breakfast

**Chapter 2: Early Morning Breakfast**

Six years later...

* * *

_The world's gone mad, that's all. Nothing unusual about Sirius Black escaping from Azkaban, nope, not at all. __**How**__ could my parents not be panicking?_

It was August 31, the night before she left for Hogwarts for the last time, and Madeline couldn't sleep. She rolled over for the fifteenth time.

Of course she couldn't sleep! There hadn't been any sightings of Sirius Black, the noted mass murderer, but he had escaped from Azkaban and… _and no one knew how!_ Madeline got out of bed and began pacing. The guards of Azkaban, which were called dementors, were the most terrifying things Madeline could think of, and yet Black had slipped by them. Madeline couldn't even imagine—had he swum back to Britain? After twelve year of living in Azkaban, how did he have the strength for that? HOW? The Ministry had also alerted the Muggles, which meant that they weren't any closer to finding him than Madeline was to liking Marcus Flint.

Madeline's thoughts turned to her friend Claire, who was Muggle-born and clever. Claire was by far Madeline's best female friend. The other Hufflepuff girl in Madeline's year—a short brunette named Elaine Ellison—was girly, always full of gossip, and not very bright; this combination kept Madeline from confiding in and becoming close to Elaine. Other students found it odd that Madeline and her friends were all in separate houses, but Madeline believed this to be a strength of their friendship. Nicolas Tennant and Oliver Wood were Gryffindors, Claire and Richard, who had been dating for the past two years, were both Ravenclaws, and Madeline was a Hufflepuff. In fact, this was quite common in their year: Kendra Hurst, a bubbly, affectionate Gryffindor was dating Peter Stott, a Hufflepuff beater. Kendra's closest friend was Margaret Bradbury, a Ravenclaw with a short temper, and they all spent time with Murray Clute and Elaine. Madeline had never really considered the inter-house friendships before, but they were definitely more common in her year than in any other she'd seen. Even Temperance Beauregard, a Slytherin seventh year who took Ancient Runes with Madeline, Claire and Richard, was quite agreeable.

Madeline's thoughts returned to Sirius Black. Where would he go? What would he do? _What would I do after 12 years in Azkaban?_ thought Madeline, who stopped pacing for a second to scoff at the thought. Madeline's pacing was suddenly interrupted by a faint pop outside of her window. She couldn't imagine who could be apparating next to her room this late—it was 3 am! Was it her boyfriend, Nicolas, coming to visit her before the journey tomorrow, or was it someone more dangerous? Heart beating quickly, Madeline grabbed her wand off her desk. _Just in case_.

Hesitantly, she pulled back the curtain and saw Oliver Wood's grinning face. Madeline felt all of her fear disappear instantly. Sighing, she opened the window and climbed out. She had to maneuver around the small flower bed under her first-floor window but made it out all the same.

"Hello there, Madeline," he said, smiling still. Oliver had stopped using her nickname back in fourth year. She had been pretending that she didn't notice ever since.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, pointing her wand at him. She could still be angry with him, right? She hadn't gotten dressed properly and was suddenly aware of her only wearing shorts and a t-shirt. She crossed her arms over her chest despite the air being warm and humid. It felt like it was to rain soon.

"Wanted to check on you, see how you were doing," he said.

"Oliver, this is stupid. I'm going to see you _tomorrow_, nitwit."

"Yeah, but after your last visit I was a little worried. Do you not remember how you left my house?"

She did remember, actually. She had been sitting in Oliver's kitchen and they had been discussing how the Wimbourne Wasps had lost their match against the Pride of Portree (Quidditch, as usual) when his father had come home ranting about 'new security procedures.' Confused, Madeline had asked him to explain. He had then told her the news about Sirius Black, and she was livid—her parents had known, as had Oliver, and none of them had told her! No one had felt like she needed to know! But the worst part had been the ignition of a small flame that was steadily growing—a flame of fear. Madeline had left Oliver's house in a flurry of shouting and near-tears. That was three days ago.

Madeline didn't particularly like yelling at Oliver (or his father, for that matter), but she was frightened. She hated knowing _that_ was the reason no one, including her parents and best mate, had told her about Black. She was still trying to forgive them.

"If you were worried, why didn't you check on me sooner?"

"Hmm, I wonder," he said, screwing up his face in mock thoughtfulness. He indicated her wand. "How about you were ready to hex me to oblivion for not telling you?"

"Ugh, you know I wouldn't really hex you," she said, lowering her wand. She looked up at the sky, but the clouds were hiding the stars. "I was just…."

"Scared?" Oliver said quietly. Madeline nodded, angry again. Why was she so damn easy to frighten?

"No wonder I'm not a Gryffindor, eh?" she said, her voice smaller than usual. She stared at her bare feet.

Oliver took her by the shoulders, shook her, and said, "Stop that. Being afraid doesn't mean that you can't be _brave_."

Madeline rolled her eyes. "_You_ can say that, as you've been handling this whole Black situation rather superbly, I don't mind saying."

"We'll be at Hogwarts tomorrow—what's there to fear?"

"Don't you remember what happened last year? You know, I'm beginning to think that Potter boy is cursed."

Madeline looked up at him after finishing her thought, and what she saw made her laugh. Oliver was torn between being amused and horrified. On one side, he could see what she meant; on the other, he couldn't go around admitting that his star Seeker was cursed. Madeline laughed again, shoving her friend playfully. Oliver was bulkier than ever, as they had spent most of summer playing Quidditch, and he even exercised in his free time. Madeline preferred to spend her down time reading.

"You _know_ I'm right," she said, still laughing. Oliver shook his head, but he was grinning. After a few moments of laughter, Madeline came to her senses. "Why did you really come here?"

"I wanted to apologise, actually," he said, his left hand on the back of his neck. "You know, for not telling you."

"And that couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"Fine. I couldn't sleep, and I knew you wouldn't be sleeping either."

"Do you want to come inside?"

"Er—"

"To the kitchen, I mean."

"Yes," he said, smiling.

"Thought so. Let's go," she said.

Madeline clambered back up into the window and Oliver followed suit. Augustus, who had just come back from a long trip to Claire's, was watching them unblinkingly. He was already locked up in his cage, ready to go; he too looked forward to being back at Hogwarts. They quietly made their way through her room, down the hallway, and into the kitchen. Madeline opened the refrigerator to see what she could make while Oliver looked at the counters. His eyes fell upon a plastic box with large, brown cake-looking items.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing.

"What—oh, those are our homemade Cauldron Cakes," Madeline replied. Oliver picked the box up, eyed it carefully, and shot her a skeptical look. "Don't look at me like that! My mum helped me make those!"

"So they're safe?"

"Yes, you prat. What, think I would poison you?"

"No, but you never know—"

"Don't you _dare_ say 'with my cooking,' Oliver Wood—"

"That's not what I was going to say, you tart—"

"Oy! Don't you call _me_ a tart, you—"

"_What_ is going on here?" said a calm, quiet voice. Madeline turned, her wand pointing frantically toward the doorway, and saw her father standing there.

"Hey dad," said Madeline, lowering her wand.

"My, my," said Oliver with a smirk. "Someone's a bit jumpy this morning."

Madeline turned to glare at Oliver, pointing her wand at him threateningly, while her father entered the room. He went to the refrigerator, pulled out some eggs, and began cracking them into a bowl. He must have noticed that they hadn't started cooking anything yet.

"Every year, Maddie. Every year, on the morning of September first, you have gotten up before the sun," he said as he began stirring the eggs together with a spell and a spinning motion of his wand. He was shaking his head. Madeline looked up guiltily at her father, a tall man with graying brown hair. Henry Palmer also wore glasses, mostly because of age, and was quite fond of reading the funnies in the Daily Prophet. At times such as this, Madeline was fonder of her father than her mother. Her mother would have been curious as to why Oliver was with her at 3:30 am, especially after talking about her boyfriend all summer, and Madeline was glad that her father didn't ask questions. He trusted them immensely; she loved him for that.

"I know," Madeline said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't have to apologise," he said gruffly, rubbing his eyes under his glasses while the bowl of eggs was pouring into a pan without his assistance.

"Are you going to work today?" Oliver asked. Madeline noticed then how similarly he and her father were dressed—they were both wearing plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt. Oliver's t-shirt was navy and had two golden bulrushes embroidered into it, as this was the symbol of Oliver's favorite league team, Puddlemere United. Madeline smiled as she looked at his shirt. It was her favorite team too, though she was also fond of the all-female Holyhead Harpies.

"No, I took off today," her father was saying through a yawn.

"Oh, really?" said Madeline. Her father nodded.

"Your mother's going to be a wreck," he said as he began working on the eggs. "She'll have a bit of a lie-in, hopefully. She needs the rest." Though Madeline knew this to be very true, she didn't enjoy hearing it. She preferred ignoring her mother's empty-nest syndrome; since she was probably going to be living at home again the summer after she graduated, she didn't quite understand why her mother was so upset.

"Hasn't she been doing double shifts?" said Oliver, his face lined with mild concern.

"Yes. For some reason, this business with Black has caused a jump in the number of patients at Mungo's. I mean, first they begged her to come back to work, and now they're having her do doubles…." His voice had become stiffer and more irritated as his words trailed off. He sighed and scooped the eggs onto three plates.

"It's because she's so good, isn't it?" said Madeline.

"Oh, yes, she's one of the best Memory Healers this side of the sea. The Ministry tried to recruit her to be an Obliviator during the time of You-Know-You."

"Really? I didn't know that," Madeline said, frowning. Henry Palmer nodded darkly at his daughter.

"Wow," said Oliver quietly.

"She liked the idea of being a Healer better," he said, shrugging. "Which was fine by me. I wasn't fond of the idea of her working for the Ministry, most especially then."

"I hope I'm good, too," Madeline said to her eggs. At this, he smiled at her.

"Olivia Palmer's daughter, not be a good Healer? What rubbish," he said. Madeline smiled at her dad. "You were made Head Girl, Maddie, which makes you the best candidate of your year as long as you get your NEWTs."

Madeline sighed as her body slumped over to the side, lying on the table. In her fifth year, Madeline had been named the female Hufflepuff prefect. It was a great honor, which Madeline had taken seriously, but she had never expected to be made Head Girl over Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw prefect who was, well, quite perfect.

"Yes, I wanted to ask you about that," her father said, frowning. "You don't seem particularly pleased about your appointment."

"Well, that's because I'm _not!_ On top of studying for NEWTs, Quidditch practices, and homework, I now have to do weekly patrols with Percy Weasley! I am definitely not pleased about that. I know it's a great honor and all, but I have no idea why Dumbledore chose me over Penelope. She's quite fond of taking points away from people, especially her own House," said Madeline heatedly.

"Maybe that's why he chose you," her father said in his usual calm voice.

"Wait," said Oliver. "You said Quidditch practices—"

Before he could finish, Madeline had covered her face with her hands and a _slap_. She had let it slip without even realising!

"Explain," he said firmly, crossing his formidable arms.

"You can't tell anyone yet, alright?" she said, pulling her hands away and looking at him with a pleading expression. "Cedric Diggory was appointed Hufflepuff Captain, and he owled me saying that I was his first pick for Chaser—"

"He's not going to host tryouts?"

"He said he would, but honestly! I've been a reserve for five years now! I'm not rubbish, and Cedric agrees with me!"

"I know you're not rubbish!" said Oliver. "Haven't I been saying for years that it's stupid you were a reserve? Women tend to be better Chasers anyway, so I don't know why Mulroney never let you play. All the guys he chose were awful. But why can't I tell anyone? If he's already chosen you, then—"

"Because he _does_ want to host tryouts, and he hasn't told many people that he was chosen as Captain," said Madeline. "Nick doesn't even know; I haven't gotten around to telling him or Claire. So wait until Diggory tells you in person, and be excited for him when he does."

"Do you know who was chosen for Ravenclaw?" he asked.

"Roger Davies," Madeline said as she rolled her eyes. "Claire told me yesterday."

"_What?_" said Oliver. Madeline nodded, a pseudo-grimace on her face.

"This year's going to be interesting to say the very least," she said.

"Say, Oliver, how's Puddlemere doing?"

This question from Madeline's father effectively ended the Hogwarts talk; they talked about Quidditch until the sun came up, which was when Oliver decided he should go back to his own home lest his parents find him missing and begin to worry. Madeline's father stood up from the table, said something about checking on his wife, and left the room. Madeline sighed, feeling weighed down again.

"This year's going to be long," she said, rubbing her eyes.

"I can't believe it's our last year," said Oliver. He shook his head in disbelief. He grimaced and Madeline patted his forearm. She knew what was troubling him—this was his last year, his last chance to win the Quidditch House Cup for Gryffindor. The thought of his last opportunity to win the Cup had been plaguing him all summer, hanging over them like a dark cloud. They had spent most of the summer training; it was helpful that he was a Keeper and she was a Chaser.

"Oliver," she said, trying to make eye contact with him, her hand still on his arm, "you'll get it this year, I'm sure of it. You're better than you've ever been (which is saying an awful lot), and your whole team is older and more experienced—there's no way Gryffindor won't win. And you know me, I'm biased, and I still think we don't stand a chance."

This seemed to have the effect Madeline was going for—Oliver was nodding and smiling slightly. Madeline knew him to be excruciatingly tough on himself, and though she didn't particularly like it, she had come to understand that there was nothing she could do to change it. That was Oliver, and all he needed was time and genuine encouragement. They really did have the best team Hogwarts had seen in awhile. Everyone knew it, too.

"But I'll be trying my best to win, don't forget," she said. Madeline squeezed his arm and rose from the table, taking the dirty plates with her. She was about to wash the plates and silverware when she felt strong arms wrap around her from behind. Oliver was hugging her. Shocked, Madeline froze, thinking of Nicolas. The shock passed quickly, however, as his arms tightened around her waist, his body close to hers and his head on her shoulder.

"Thank you," he said. "You really are my best friend."

Madeline nodded despite being surprised by his sudden affection. She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck, closing any distance between them. They embraced for only a few more moments before Madeline pulled away.

"We'll have to set a time to see each other during the week, I expect, if we still want to be mates. I don't know how I'm going to get through this year, honestly."

"Claire, Nick, Richard, and I will help you along the way." After a few moments of silence, Oliver spoke again. "Well, I'd better get going. See you later."

"Definitely," said Madeline, nodding. "Damn, Percy's going to be _unbearable_."

With a last laugh and a wave, Oliver turned and disapparated. Madeline smiled, washed the dishes, and went back to her bedroom to get dressed for her last trip to King's Cross as a Hogwarts student.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Storm Brewing**

"Well," Madeline said, her face flushed and her smile large. "Well."

"Hello," he said, placing another kiss on her lips. "I missed you."

**I appreciate everyone reading! Feel free to let me know how I'm doing, as I'm quite knew at this. Also, I don't know if wizards really have refrigerators, but pourquoi pas, non?**


	3. Storm Brewing

**Chapter 3: Storm Brewing**

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." - Albus Dumbledore

* * *

A few hours later, Madeline was loading her trunk and Augustus' cage on the Hogwarts Express. She never failed to be amazed by the scarlet steam engine; it was though it had come straight from a child's picture book. She found quickly Claire and Richard, and she stowed her belongings in their compartment before returning to her parents. She hugged them, told them that she loved them and would see them for Christmas, and then made her way back to her compartment. Halfway back to the train, she saw Hermione Granger and the Weasleys milling about with Harry Potter, who was being hugged tightly by Mrs. Weasley. The Weasley twins, Fred and George, took notice of her and waved merrily, but Madeline noticed that Percy Weasley was missing. Had he already run off to see his girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater? Madeline shook her head, smiling. _Of course he had._

As she boarded the train and made her way to Claire's compartment, a few older students took notice of her Head Girl badge and congratulated her. She smiled, thanked them, and continued walking. Madeline had initially been against wearing the badge before getting to school, but her parents had talked her into it, saying that it was quite normal to do so. Madeline just knew that Percy would be showing off his badge, and she didn't want to come across as pompous as him.

Before she could reach her compartment, she heard someone call her name. She turned, searching for the person, and saw Nicolas walking towards and beaming at her. Nicolas Tennant was a seventh year Gryffindor, popular, handsome and outspoken, who had neither been named prefect nor played Quidditch. He was a great student with few responsibilities, and Madeline liked this about him. His favorite subject was Charms and he hoped to be an Unspeakable, despite having no idea how to do so. Madeline grinned and took a few steps in his direction; seconds later, she was wrapped in his arms, kissing him. Everything that had been worrying her, every fear and nuisance—Sirius Black, NEWTs, Percy—all melted away instantly. A brief reunion kiss was followed by a longer, deeper, more passionate one, and Madeline only pulled away when she remembered that she was standing in the middle of the Hogwarts Express.

"Well," Madeline said, her face flushed and her smile large. "Well."

"Hello," he said, placing another kiss on her lips. "I missed you."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," she said. She brushed her hand through his black hair and smiled broadly at his crooked grin.

"I don't believe you one bit," he said, his voice nearing a growl.

"Oy, you two!" shouted Claire from down the hall. "Are you going to stand there snogging all day or come join your friends?"

"We're coming," said Madeline before Nicolas could reply. They entered the compartment and sat across from the other couple.

"It's about time. I thought you'd been left on the platform," said Claire, smiling. "Turns out you were just having a cosy reunion snog."

"We're allowed to do so, aren't we?" replied Nicolas. "You two'd be at it like rabbits if you hadn't spent all summer together."

At this, Madeline and Claire laughed, while Richard just grinned and shook his head.

"I won't deny it," said Claire with a wicked grin, and Madeline found herself laughing again.

The general chatter of reuniting after a long, hot summer commenced. They gossiped about their classmates, told stories of their misadventures from the holiday (apparently Richard had been hit on by a hag in Ireland), and reminisced about the previous year at Hogwarts. The laughter coming from their compartment couldn't mask the unmistakable sound of the compartment door opening, and everyone was surprised to see Cedric Diggory, a handsome fifth year Hufflepuff, standing there. He smiled as soon as his eyes landed on Madeline.

"Madeline! I've been looking for you! Congratulations on Head Girl, we all knew it would be you," he said, smiling at everyone as if they had all come to this conclusion as well.

"Hey Cedric!" said Madeline. "Er, thanks. I had no clue, so it was quite the surprise for me, but thanks anyway!"

"I also wanted to tell you—" before he could finished, he turned to look at someone who had just spoken outside of the compartment. "Oliver Wood! Great to see you! How're you?"

Cedric and Oliver had a brief conversation, and then Cedric stepped to the side and allowed Oliver to step into the compartment. He was greeted happily by everyone and took the seat next to Claire, who was closest to the door.

"Going to join us?" asked Oliver of Cedric.

"Oh, no, I was only going to share a bit of news with Madeline and you too, Oliver. I'm glad you're both here. I was named Captain of Hufflepuff's Quidditch team this year," he said, grinning sheepishly.

Madeline smiled and pretended to be surprised, as did Oliver. She stood to hug Cedric, who blushed a bit. He said thanks for the congratulations given by everyone in the compartment. No one seemed to be genuinely shocked at this news.

"So, I'll be off to find Roger Davies. I've heard he's been made Ravenclaw Captain."

"Quite true," said Claire, nodding.

"Well, I'll see you all around, then. Oh, and Madeline?" said Cedric, beaming at her. "I'll be seeing you for tryouts?"

"Certainly," she said, nodding at him. Cedric then turned and left, waving in goodbye to everyone and shutting the compartment door.

"Took you long enough to find us, mate," said Nicolas to Oliver after Cedric had left.

"Yeah, I put my things with Lee and the twins. They said I needed to be warned about Percy. Apparently he's gotten worse," Oliver replied, rolling his eyes. Madeline groaned and slumped melodramatically in her seat while Claire gave her a look of consolation.

"Great. He's such a pompous, arrogant, annoying little—erg! I don't know how I'm going to deal with him this year," she said, pouting.

"Oh, stuff it. At least you don't _live_ with him," said Nicolas in an attempt to cheer her up. "He's in our Common Room every night."

"_I'm_ in your Common Room almost every night," Madeline shot back.

"Well, that settles it, Madeline," said Richard, smiling a small smile. "You'll just have to hide out with us in the Ravenclaw tower _where you belong_."

Both Nicolas and Oliver began protesting at these words, and Madeline just laughed and smiled thankfully at Richard; he and Claire had always been under the impression that Madeline was a Ravenclaw at heart, while Nicolas and Oliver tended to think of her as a Gryffindor. Madeline didn't mind this dispute and felt this was one of the best compliments she could be genuinely given. Claire placed an appreciative kiss on Richard's cheek and he smiled at her with a look that made Madeline roll her eyes.

"The sad bit's that now that Percy's dating Penelope openly, they'll probably be in our Common Room more often," said Claire.

"We should banish them to the Astronomy Tower, the gits," said Nicolas.

"No, too many people sneak up there," said Oliver in all seriousness. "I think the North Tower would be more appropriate."

And with that, the five friends dissolved in fits of laughter at the prospect of banishing Percy and Penelope to the North Tower with Professor Trelawney.

Around the middle of the afternoon, after they had finished most of their lunches, it began to rain and they all felt rather drowsy. Madeline and Oliver, who hadn't slept the night before, both fell asleep to the sound of the pittering-pattering rain. Madeline fell asleep on Nicolas' shoulder, who was reading from their NEWT Charms book, and Oliver fell asleep in the corner while Claire and Richard held a whispered conversation.

The next thing Madeline knew, Nicolas was shaking her awake. She rubbed her bleary eyes and looked around to find her surroundings much darker than she remembered; the lamps were lit and Oliver was still asleep. The train was slowing down, and she became confused. How long had she slept?

"Are we there already?" she asked. She couldn't see anything out of the windows because of the pouring rain.

Richard looked at his watch and shook his head, saying, "We shouldn't be."

"So why're we slowing down?" asked Claire. "Oliver? Oliver!"

Oliver didn't wake up until Claire shook him hard, and upon waking, he began asking the same question Madeline had asked. Before anyone could reply to him, Madeline shushed them all—she heard the pistons of the train die away.

"We're about to stop. I'm going to go check with the driver, maybe something's gone wrong," said Madeline, standing. As soon as she stood, though, the compartment door slid open and Penelope Clearwater came in.

"Percy, she's here—"

Penelope took the empty seat next to Nicolas as Percy Weasley, who was already dressed in the Hogwarts robes, appeared a moment later looking flushed. He quickly addressed Madeline, who had moved towards the door.

"Madeline, I think we ought to—OOF!"

The train jerked to a halt and many things happened at once—Percy fell into the side of the compartment door, Nicolas and Penelope were thrown forward towards Claire and Richard, and Madeline was tossed into Oliver. Then, without warning, all of the lights went out. Madeline could feel Oliver's large hands holding her, and she heard many people's voices at once—everyone on the train was surely panicking. Percy found his feet and turned, looking down the hallway. Then compartment was suddenly much colder—Madeline could see her breath in the air. A moment later, as Richard lit his wand, Percy was backing into the compartment, a terrified look on his face, and for a very good reason—a dementor, a hooded figure with no knowable face and slimy, bony hands, stood at the threshold of the compartment. It seemed to regard Madeline and Oliver with interest, as they were nearest the door, and Madeline felt as though she had been plunged into an icy lake, fear striking her stomach like a dagger. And then, she could hear a voice…

_"Madeline, you're wrong! You're usually right, but you're wrong about this!"_

It was an awful, angry voice that she couldn't recognize, and it was growing louder…

_"I don't know if we can be friends anymore!"_

Richard stood, pointed his wand at the dementor, and shot a flash of bright light at it. The dementor swept away, and Claire lit her wand as well. Madeline eventually regained all of her senses and recognized Richard's use of the Patronus Charm; though it hadn't been fully-formed, it had certainly done the trick. Percy slumped down and sat against the edge of the compartment looking shocked. Oliver's grip on Madeline hadn't lessened. In fact, if Madeline wasn't mistaken, it had become tighter—and it was then that Madeline recognized the voice in her head, the voice that had been speaking, as Oliver's. She had heard a replay of their fight in fourth year, the fight that had caused Oliver to stop calling her "Maddie." She felt tears spring into her eyes, burning them, at the memory.

In their fourth year, Madeline had been spending a lot of time with Alex Mulroney. One afternoon, Mulroney had been teasing Madeline about her flying ability, and Oliver, overhearing part of the conversation, had stopped to watch. Out of nervousness, Madeline had parried his tease, and he had slapped Madeline for the insult. Oliver, of course, had found this to be completely unacceptable and punched the older student so hard that his nose broke. Though she had been offended, Madeline was furious that Oliver would do such a thing and yelled at him as Mulroney ran to the Hospital Wing. Oliver had defended his actions and threatened to stop talking to Madeline, and Oliver had received his first and only detention that day. McGonagall hadn't been amused, but she hadn't been very angry, either.

Madeline felt Oliver shift under her and bring her closer to him; her breathing became short and uneven, tears pouring onto Oliver's shoulder, but she couldn't calm down. She wasn't sure why. Madeline was still crying when the lamps flickered back on and the train began moving again. Meanwhile, Claire pulled a Chocolate Frog out of her purse, sliced it into pieces with her wand, and passed them to her friends. She saved the largest piece for Madeline, who was still shaking and crying. The rain began pouring down in torrential gusts.

The compartment door opened again, and everyone's head turned sharply to see who it was, hoping it wasn't another dementor. To their surprise, it was a young man dressed in shabby robes with thin, graying hair. He reminded Madeline of her father, though he looked to be much younger.

"I'm looking for the Head Boy and Girl. Are you alright?" he asked, looking pointedly at Madeline.

"I think we will be. Maddie, sweetie, you need to eat this," said Claire, touching the back of her head gently. Madeline looked at her and nodded, wiping the tears from her face. She was being stupid. That fight had been years ago, and Oliver was clearly still her best friend. _Stop being silly,_ she told herself, nodding again. Madeline took the chocolate, bit off a piece, and felt the warmth spread through her body. Percy stood, introduced himself, and checked on Penelope while Madeline finished off the piece of chocolate. She took a deep breath and stood, squeezing Oliver's arm as she did so.

"This is Madeline Palmer," said Percy, indicating her.

"I'm the Head Girl," Madeline said, taking another deep breath. "Are they gone? Is everyone alright?"

"Yes, they're gone; no one's been seriously hurt, but everyone I've seen is panicking a bit," said the man. "Would you mind distributing this amongst any particularly shaken students?"

He turned, bent over, and pulled a bag of chocolate bars into view. _Who carries that much chocolate with them?_ Madeline wondered.

"Who are you?" asked Percy as Madeline nodded and took the bag.

"My name's Remus Lupin. I'll be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor," he said, his voice calm and even. Madeline instantly felt comfortable with this man.

"Thank you, Professor," said Madeline. "I'm sure the prefects will be up to helping us."

"I'll take some," said Richard, standing.

"As will I," said Penelope.

"Excellent. I'm going to go have a word with the driver. We should be in Hogsmeade soon," said Professor Lupin, who turned and left.

Madeline passed Penelope, Percy, and Richard a few bars of chocolate, and they each took off in different directions. When they came across other prefects, they asked for their assistance in checking on everyone. Percy and Madeline spent the remainder of the journey checking on students, many of whom had been quite as shaken as Madeline. Professor Lupin met up with the Head Boy and Girl right as the train was pulling into the station, and Madeline greeted him warmly.

"Professor! Thanks again for the chocolate; it helped a great deal. There were a lot of first and second years frightened out of their wits," she said. "Well, everyone was, but the younger ones especially seemed quite shaken."

"I assumed as much," Professor Lupin said, nodding. "I also assumed they were searching the train for Sirius Black; I hadn't expected it to have been scheduled."

"What?" asked Percy. "Why would the Hogwarts Express be hiding Sirius Black?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Professor Lupin replied as the train came to a complete stop. "I know it's a lot to ask, but would you mind helping me make sure all of students make it safely off the train?"

"Of course," said Percy in a dignified manner, replying quickly as though to beat Madeline to the punch. Madeline resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"We'll go to the end of the train and work our way up," said Madeline. "Meet you halfway?"

Professor Lupin nodded and made his way toward the front of the train once more, while Percy followed Madeline towards the back. The students began exiting as quickly as possible, as though afraid a dementor would reappear if they remained on board. The pair remained quiet while they checked every compartment for students. Many minutes later, Percy and Madeline were meeting up with the Professor once more. After he declared himself satisfied, the three of them exited the train and ran towards a carriage. The rain pouring from the sky was icy and sharp, and it felt as though the raindrops were stinging every inch of Madeline's body. Once in the carriage, they began trundling away towards the castle, which could hardly be seen. Professor Lupin then performed a simple drying spell, followed by a warming spell.

"Were you a Hogwarts student?" asked Percy after a few moments of silence.

"Oh, yes," he said.

"What House were you in?" Percy continued. Madeline freely rolled her eyes this time.

"As a professor, I am supposed to be unbiased, so there would be no point in my divulging which House I was in," he said, his voice still quite calm. "I'll be happy to entertain a guess or two, however."

At this, Madeline laughed for the first time since lunch.

"I won't say that Percy has a point," she began, "but if you can't trust us, who can you trust? And we won't be offended, or at least, I won't, as I'm a Hufflepuff."

"I shall not be offended by anything Professor Lupin has to say," said Percy, his voice rising slightly.

"In which case, we'd love to know which House you were in," said Madeline.

He graced them with a small smile and said, "I suppose it won't hurt as long as you keep it to yourselves."

"Of course," they both said, almost in unison.

"I will be doing my best to remain completely impartial, as I remember having professors who favored certain Houses, and I would like to spare students of such bigotry—"

Percy and Madeline looked at each other, thinking similar things about Professor Snape.

"Out with it!" said Madeline, smiling at Professor Lupin.

"Alright, I was a Gryffindor," he said, that same small smile appearing.

"I knew it," said Percy proudly. Madeline rolled her eyes again.

"If you didn't notice, Percy here's a Gryffindor."

"As I said, it should hardly matter. And please do keep it to yourselves," he said, his voice pleading.

"Of course, Professor," said Madeline as they reached their destination. Madeline, who was seated closest to the great double doors of Hogwarts, ran out first. She was followed by Percy and Professor Lupin, and each got as drenched as Madeline. Once in the Entrance Hall, which was notably empty (_Has the Sorting ceremony already begun? _she wondered), Professor Lupin showed Percy and Madeline how to perform the drying spell, which they both executed without trouble.

"Excellent. Shall we?" he said, gesturing towards the open doors of the Great Hall. The trio made their way into the hall, which was packed with students. The first years were up near the staff's table, being sorted one at a time. Instead of Professor McGonagall, however, Professor Flitwick was standing near the Sorting Hat, calling out the names of the students.

Without so much of a wave, Percy made his way toward the Gryffindor table. Madeline watched as Professor Lupin walked along the edge of the room, hoping to reach the staff table without interrupting the Sorting. Her own table looked particularly full, but she took a seat right at the very end of the table next to Murray, a stout seventh year boy whom Madeline hadn't ever been particularly close to. When she sat, however, he congratulated her on becoming Head Girl with a large, friendly smile.

Soon, the Sorting was over and, as Professor Flitwick was leaving with the three-legged stool and Sorting Hat, Madeline watched as Professor McGonagall entered with a down-trodden Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Were those two in trouble already? That explained why McGonagall hadn't been overseeing the Sorting Ceremony as she usually did.

Dumbledore's speech came soon after, and Madeline listened as carefully as she could from the opposite end of the Great Hall. He welcomed them, explained the presence of the dementors, and then, after making an offhand comment about Invisibility Cloaks, begged students not to give the dementors a reason to harm them.

"I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors," he was saying as his eyes searched for Madeline and Percy.

Dumbledore introduced Professor Lupin, and Madeline joined in the light smatterings of applause. Then, to Madeline's shock, Dumbledore explained that Hagrid would be the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Madeline applauded, but frowned—was Hagrid qualified to teach?

The feast continued without any trouble. Madeline heard the Slytherin table whispering excitedly about something, but she didn't catch what the fuss was about. While she ate, Madeline glanced over at the Gryffindor table, and saw Oliver looking rather upset about something—he was angrily stabbing the steak on his plate. Nicolas, however, had his back to Madeline, so she couldn't catch his eye. She turned around to search the Ravenclaw table for Claire or Richard, but neither were facing her. Murray and Peter exchanged a few sentences with Madeline, but she wasn't too interested in their conversation about Care of Magical Creatures, so she remained quiet. Madeline didn't eat much, as she didn't have much of an appetite, and she was rather looking forward to getting into her four-poster bed and going to sleep.

After the desserts disappeared and the golden plates were gleaming with cleanliness, Dumbledore sent them all off to bed. As the Hufflepuff Common Room didn't require passwords, Madeline made no effort to be the first to leave the Great Hall. Being Head Girl meant that she knew the passwords to the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms, but she hoped she never needed to use the latter. Madeline was beginning to rise out of her seat when Claire found her and stopped her.

"Sit," Claire said with no preamble. She took the vacated seat next to Madeline.

"Where's Richard?"

"Entrance Hall. I want to talk to you."

"About what?" Madeline asked as the last twenty or so students filtered out of the Great Hall.

"About what happened on the train," Claire said.

"I don't know if I'm up to talking about all of that right now, Claire," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I didn't sleep last night."

"It's not about the dementor; it's about what happened after you _left!_"

Madeline, who had not been very alert to Claire's words before this, suddenly felt fully awake. She jerked up and stared into Claire's greenish-grey eyes.

"_What happened?_"

"Miss Palmer, Miss Denson," came Dumbledore's voice. "Why haven't you made your way to your dormitories?"

"Sorry, Headmaster," said Claire, who stood and faced him quickly. Madeline followed suit. "I was worried about Madeline."

Madeline knew that this wasn't exactly what they had been talking about, but it was true nonetheless. Dumbledore seemed keenly aware of this fact, but his pale blue eyes were twinkling, so Madeline knew that they weren't in any serious trouble.

"That's quite alright, Miss Denson. If you wouldn't mind letting me speak to Miss Palmer, you'd be quite welcome to wait in the Entrance Hall with Mr. Callaghan."

With that, Claire walked through the double doors and left Madeline alone with the Headmaster. Madeline marvelled at Dumbledore's ability to remember students' names, but she became nervous when she met his eyes. Dumbledore was quite talented at reading people, and Madeline always felt a touch of anxiety when his penetrating eyes met her hazel ones.

"Are you alright, Miss Palmer? Would you like to see Madame Pomfrey, or perhaps spend the evening in the Hospital Wing?"

"I'm alright, sir."

"Very well. Professor Lupin has informed me that you and Mr. Weasley performed admirably during the kerfuffle on the Hogwarts Express," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Oh," she said, embarrassed. "Well, I wouldn't say _admirably_. I—well, that is, I suppose, _we_—did as Professor Lupin asked. It wasn't much."

"I daresay it was," he contradicted. "No Head Boy and Girl have had so much to do on the Hogwarts Express in many years."

"I'm just glad no one was seriously affected," said Madeline. This had definitely given her relief—she didn't want students taken ill under her charge.

"Yes, well, we're going to have a difficult year ahead of us, I imagine, with these dementors lurking about," he said, his gaze turning darker. "I am telling you this because we all must be prepared for anything. The dementors are not to be trifled with."

"Yes, sir," said Madeline firmly. "I completely understand. Also, sir, I like Professor Lupin very much."

"I like him very much as well, but I believe you've had a troubling evening. Let's join your friends in the Entrance Hall," he said, escorting her away from her table. Once they were at the doors, Dumbledore spun around, swept his wand through the air, and extinguished all of the floating candles.

"Miss Palmer, please inform Mr. Weasley that I would like to meet with you both next Monday at 8 pm, in my office," Dumbledore said once the doors were closed. Claire and Richard were sitting on the stairs and waiting for Madeline. "I also wanted to mention, Miss Palmer, that I am quite relieved that you accepted your appointment. Thank you," he said, smiling at her with his twinkling eyes. He made his way towards the stairs, bid them goodnight, and left them standing there. Claire stared after him, looking pensive.

"What did he want?" asked Richard. Madeline sighed and rubbed her tired eyes.

"I'll tell you both tomorrow. Right now, I need my bed."

* * *

**Chapter 4: First Day of the Last Year**

"What do you mean they had an argument?" Madeline sighed. This was definitely not how she wanted to start off her first day of classes.

**P.S. - Hermione and Harry were "down-trodden" because they had missed the Sorting, Harry for the second year in a row. ;)**


	4. First Day of the Last Year

**Chapter 4: First Day of the Last Year**

"As I grow older, I pay less attention to what people say. I just watch what they do." - Andrew Carnegie

* * *

Madeline probably would have slept through her first day back had Elaine not shaken her awake. For this, she was half thankful and half irritated—she wanted to get up and go to class, of course, but she also wanted to keep sleeping. She didn't remember falling asleep; it had happened so quickly. As Madeline got out of bed, however, she couldn't even remember what she had been dreaming about. Elaine made sure she was awake and then left to go to breakfast, and Madeline got dressed, realising that she hadn't packed her bag the night before. She opened her trunk, took out her note-taking supplies, and put them in her bag. Feeling satisfied with her level of preparedness, Madeline shrugged and exited her room.

The Great Hall was rather busy when Madeline entered, and the ceiling was a dull grey. Looking around, Madeline found Nicolas sitting with Richard at the Ravenclaw table and went to join them. Still drowsy, she sat next to Nicolas and stifled a huge yawn. He kissed her on the temple and watched her smile. The Slytherin table seemed to still be snickering about something, just as they had been the night before.

"What are they going on about? And have we our course schedules yet?" she asked as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. Richard nodded and Madeline looked around for Professor Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff House, who happened to be passing out schedules to a handful of nervous-looking first years. She decided to wait until Professor Sprout wasn't as busy.

"Apparently Harry Potter passed out on the train, but we heard Percy telling Penelope that his brother Ron said Harry had nearly been kissed, so it's no shock. Anyone would have fainted," said Nicolas. "And this morning we have Transfiguration and then Charms. After that, I'll be going to Arithmancy."

"Which means that I have a break," concluded Madeline, smiling. She had never taken that elective. "I can't believe the dementors tried to kiss Harry Potter! Oh wait, yes I can. He's cursed—only, don't tell Oliver. He doesn't think it's very funny."

"I'll bet he doesn't. After our break, Madeline, we have Ancient Runes," said Richard.

"Perfect! Mondays sound excellent! Say, where's Claire?"

"She went to the Owlery, saying something about an urgent owl," replied Richard. In response to Madeline's questioning gaze, he said, "I honestly have no idea. You'll have to ask her."

After finishing a delicious, piping-hot cinnamon scone, Madeline watched as Claire entered the Great Hall with Oliver. The thought occurred to her that this was odd, but she didn't dwell on it. Oliver and Claire sat across from Nicolas and Madeline, who checked to see that Professor Sprout wasn't busy and then went to talk to her.

"Run off without saying 'hello,' why don't you?" said Claire. Madeline turned around and stuck out her tongue before reaching the staff table.

"Good morning, Professor Sprout! Have my timetable?"

"I do, indeed, Miss Palmer! Congratulations on being named Head Girl. It's quite an honor. I heard about what happened on the train last night," she said as she sorted through a stack of papers. "Nasty business. I'm glad everyone's doing well, though. Have a good holiday?"

"I did," said Madeline, smiling brightly. "I played Quidditch all summer, actually. I'm excited that Cedric Diggory is our Captain. Excellent choice, if you don't mind my saying."

"Yes, I was hoping that Mr. Diggory might do well! I suppose we'll see, won't we?" she asked as she found Madeline's schedule and handed it to her. Madeline skimmed it quickly.

"Oh, Professor," she said, frowning, "I don't have class with you until Wednesday?"

"I believe so," Professor Sprout replied, giving Madeline a fond look. "NEWT Herbology will be Wednesday afternoons. It'll be a double, though."

Madeline thanked her and nodded, bid her good day, and returned to her seat. She examined her schedule closer.

"Glad to have you back with us," said Claire.

"Wait, Madeline, how many classes are you taking?" asked Nicolas, looking at her timetable.

Madeline showed him her schedule and took up another scone. To become a Healer, she only needed Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Madeline was only taking Ancient Runes because she enjoyed it; it would be nice having a class she didn't have to take seriously. She had decided against taking NEWT Arithmancy because although she did well in the class, she didn't like the subject. She had never taken Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, or Divination. She could easily read about those topics if she were interested; most of the other subjects took practice and lots of homework.

"You're only taking six?!" said Nicolas, shocked.

"That's all I need. And honestly, I'll be using any free time to study for the NEWTs. I have to get top marks in five of those six. It's kind of nice not having to worry about rubbish like History of Magic."

"We're taking the same six," said Claire, bouncing in her seat. "We're going to have so much free time! And I'm going to _finally_ get better marks than you!"

"Yes, well, I'm always up for a challenge, aren't I?" Madeline shot back.

"We should probably head to class," said Richard, looking at his watch.

"Always the punctual one," said Claire. They smiled goo-ily at each other and Madeline rolled her eyes.

Richard and Nicolas were the first to embark from the table and were up the stairs by the time Madeline, Claire, and Oliver made it to the Entrance Hall.

"You alright?" Madeline asked Oliver as they climbed the stairs. "You haven't said a word all morning."

"Yeah," he replied, smiling. Madeline noticed that the smile didn't fully reach his eyes. "I already know your schedule, don't I, as many times as we talked about it this summer?"

"Too true. So I was thinking that we should all study together on Sundays. Study for NEWTs, I mean. My goal this term is to not have any homework on Sundays."

"That's wishful thinking, that is," said Claire, frowning. "They're going to pile on the homework just like in fifth year."

Oliver groaned, as did Madeline. Claire was right.

"I think Sunday's good, though. We'll _try_ to study for NEWTs?" asked Oliver, looking at Madeline, who nodded.

"Maybe I shouldn't join Cedric's team," said Madeline. She bit her lip. "I'm scared that I'm going to overload myself."

"Nah," he said, smiling genuinely at her. "If anyone can do it all, it'll be you."

"Oliver's right," said Claire. "You've only got six classes worth of homework, and if that's what keeps you from playing Quidditch, I'll let you copy from me."

"How generous!" Madeline said, laughing. "You know I don't like copying off anyone, though."

Transfiguration was easily Madeline's best class, but in today's lesson, even she didn't do as well as expected. McGonagall had begun class by giving them a brief speech about perseverance, nearly completing their education, and hard work. She expected everyone in the NEWT level class to be on their game in _every lesson_. Shocking.

"I suppose," said McGonagall at the end of her speech, "that we should get cracking. The essay I set over the summer, which I will collect at the end of class, required you do research on conjurations. Today we will test what knowledge you've accumulated."

Professor McGonagall then had them all attempt to conjure rabbits. No one seemed to be able to conjure it precisely. Percy and Richard were both able to conjure feet and legs, while Kendra Hurst conjured a stuffed, toy rabbit. Nicolas conjured only a few fluffy rabbit tails. Claire's attempt produced only a shimmering image of a rabbit, while Madeline's rabbit had a shrunken head and no ears or tail. It was an odd-looking creature, and its little nose was twitching oddly. McGonagall had been walking around monitoring the class' performance, and upon seeing Madeline's attempt, vanished everyone's rabbits. She gave Madeline a look of mild disappointment, but she didn't feel unsuccessful. She had never conjured a living animal before, since it was considered to be such a nasty business, and therefore thought her attempt to be pretty good. Based on everyone's apparent lack of success, Madeline supposed that no one else had ever attempted to conjure a living thing either.

McGonagall gave them all homework, of course, saying that they would be continuing working on Conjurations until November. While she was speaking, the bells rang, signaling the end of the lesson.

"—at which point we will resume studying Human Transfiguration with an emphasis on and practice with Untransformation. Be sure to work on those rabbits. Good day."

In Charms, the lesson was relatively easy. They reviewed the Aguamenti Spell, which everyone completely successfully, and then spent the remainder of their time taking notes on casting nonverbal charms. For homework, Professor Flitwick asked them all to try doing some spells nonverbally, such as Wingardium Leviosa.

After class, Madeline walked with Claire and Richard to the Ravenclaw Tower while Nicolas and a few others went to Muggle Studies. Before entering the Ravenclaw Common Room, the eagle knocker asked them to answer a question:

"Poor people have it. Rich people need it. If you eat it you die. What is it?"

Madeline looked at Claire and Richard as though to say, "This is your deal, you handle it." Claire's eyebrows pinched together while Richard stared off pensively.

"Oh!" said Claire a moment later with a snap of her fingers. "It's nothing, isn't it? The answer is 'nothing.'"

The eagle knocker nodded and let them enter. Madeline loved the Ravenclaw Common Room with its domed, starry ceiling, its midnight blue carpet, and its wonderful view of the grounds. Because lessons were taking place, the Common Room was empty, allowing Claire, Richard, and Madeline to enjoy a private conversation without worrying about being overheard.

"So," said Richard as they sat at a table near one of the windows, "what did Dumbledore want?"

"Oh, he just wanted… well, actually, he thanked me for accepting the position," said Madeline, trying to remember what she and Dumbledore had spoken about.

"I'm sure he did! Can you imagine Penelope and Percy running about, taking points away from everyone for having fun without them?" asked Claire, rolling her eyes. Richard looked at Claire in a chastising way, but didn't speak.

"We also talked about the situation on the train, of course," continued Madeline. "Apparently Professor Lupin had told him that Percy and I had done a good job. I do specifically remember him telling me that this year was going to be troublesome with the dementors around. He said… oh, what was the word he used? It was something like, 'They are not to be trifled with.'"

"So he's worried," said Richard. "All the teachers seemed to be. Except Snape, of course. Did you _see_ the way he was looking at that Lupin fellow?"

"Like he could've murdered him," murmured Madeline. "So, Claire, what was it that you wanted to tell me last night? And why did you go to the Owlery this morning?"

"I went to the Owlery because Oliver asked me to go with him," she said, shrugging.

"You told me it was urgent!" said Richard, looking slightly hurt.

"Well, it was, sort of. Oliver needed to send it this morning," she replied. "I'm sorry, but, well, you were with Nick—"

"Ah," was all Richard said in response. "I'm going to nip upstairs and grab my Ancient Runes book while you tell her."

"Tell me what? What happened after I left the compartment?" asked Madeline urgently as Richard walked towards the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw and through an adjacent wooden door. Madeline turned to Claire, who looked like she was deciding how to break some very unfortunate news. This did nothing but make Madeline more nervous. "_What happened?_"

"Well, er—you see, Nick and Oliver sort of… had an argument."

"What do you mean they had an argument?" she asked. Madeline sighed. This was definitely not how she wanted to start off her first day of classes. It wasn't even noon!

"Well, think about it," said Claire quickly. "You were sitting on Oliver's lap when the dementor came in and—no, don't argue, just listen. I know it was an accident. But after the dementor left, you burst into tears, and Oliver comforted you."

"_So?_" Madeline said rather louder than she had meant to.

"_So_, your boyfriend asked Oliver to let him comfort you the next time you got upset. He feels as though it's his responsibility, and _rightly so_," said Claire firmly. Madeline felt the urge to continue arguing, but she knew it would just work her up.

"And what did Oliver say?"

"That's where it got a bit heated, actually," said Claire nervously. "He said that he had just as much of a right to comfort you, and Nick didn't like that. Nick said that he disagreed and that it was his job as your boyfriend to make sure that you were alright, and Oliver started saying something about knowing you better—but I guess they remembered that I was sitting there and, well, it was a _really_ awkward train ride after that. I was beyond relieved when Richard came back."

Madeline took a few moments to try to comprehend everything she had heard.

"So Nick was… jealous, essentially? He was jealous that I sobbed all over Oliver's shirt and not his? Is he mental?!"

"No, sweetie, he's not mental," said Claire as Richard walked back into the empty common room. "You have to understand—Nick's liked you for a really long time, so he's always been a little jealous of how close you and Oliver are. He never said anything to you, of course, but, listen, there's _going to be tension_. Stuff like this happens when friends date each other. Oliver has to learn to give Nick a chance to be there for you. It's probably going to be a little awkward between them for a while, but it'll pass. Oliver will see that Nick makes you happy, and Nick will understand that Oliver's just your oldest and dearest friend."

Richard sat down with them and took Madeline's hand, which surprised her, but it was very comforting.

"They'll work it out. It's not something for you to fret over. You have enough going on," he said. He gave her hand a squeeze and let it go.

"I want to talk to them about it, but I don't think I should," said Madeline, frowning.

"No, you shouldn't," said Claire firmly. "Like Richard said, let them settle it. It'll escalate quickly, I think, if you start trying to help them fix it."

Madeline's thoughts were swirling chaotically. How long had Nicolas liked her? Did Oliver really feel that protective of her? Her mind then brought up the image of her and Oliver standing in her kitchen, hugging early in the morning. Before she could help it, Madeline began telling them about Oliver's last-minute visit, including her father's reaction to seeing them, the hug, and what he had said to her. Claire and Richard exchanged glances multiple times while Madeline recounted what she could remember. She ignored them and bantered on.

"Once Quidditch starts, he's going to be a maniac," she said lowly, speaking of Oliver. "People think they've seen him at his most obsessed, but they haven't. I saw it all summer; he's so worried about letting everyone down…. And, well, no one really understands except me. Last year, Alicia Spinnet came to me after the Quidditch match was canceled, saying that Oliver had gone mad. If for _any_ reason Gryffindor loses a match, it's going to be like that, except much, _much_ worse. I'm genuinely worried about him."

Claire and Richard looked at her sadly, but she stared at her friends in an almost defiant way. They needed to know, to understand.

"Do you think that Nick will be bothered by that?"

They looked at each other again, and Madeline knew that they were having a private conversation, deciding what to say.

"Allow me to say this," said Richard in a calm, practiced voice, "if your worrying about Oliver exceeds your desire to spend time Nick, he will be bothered by it. If you can strike a balance, I don't think you'll have a problem."

Madeline stared at Richard. She hadn't ever considered him attractive, but in the midmorning light of the blue and silver common room, Madeline could fully appreciate why Claire loved him so much. At the moment, however, he was looking very serious.

"I refuse to choose between them," said Madeline after a few moments of silence.

"It shouldn't come to that, ever," said Richard carefully.

Madeline shrugged. She didn't want to talk about this anymore. She had just started dating Nicolas at the end of last school year—it hadn't even been three full months since he asked her out. Madeline recalled it with perfect clarity: after the Chamber of Secrets madness, Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts (after having been asked to step down by the Governors) and announced that there would be no end-of-year exams. Most of the sixth years went to the lake and were lounging about, all worries gone. They began playing truth or dare, and Madeline was dared to kiss Nicolas, which she did, albeit shyly. She remembered the bright sunshine, the twins pestering the new couple of Percy and Penelope, and laughing harder that afternoon than she had in her entire life. Before the year ended, Nicolas asked her if he could see her over the summer. They had gone on a few dates to Diagon Alley, but he had a summer job, so they hadn't see each other as often as they would have liked.

Madeline didn't fully understand why there was tension between Oliver and Nicolas. Surely the jealousy would pass—Nick knew that she and Oliver were close, everyone did. It made sense to her that they would both want to be there for her, as she hoped to be there for both of them. She definitely didn't want to have to choose. That just felt wrong.

Madeline's chance to stop thinking about it came during her Ancient Runes lesson, in which they began transcribing a new text. The lesson had been so great that for the rest of the day, Madeline's thoughts didn't stray towards the argument; she and Claire and Richard went to the library to start working on homework before dinner. When Nicolas joined them, Madeline was able to help him work on his rabbit, which she had perfected after three tries.

That night, Madeline found herself looking forward to the next day's lessons, particularly Defense Against the Dark Arts, and thoughts of any discordance between Oliver and Nicolas were far from her mind.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Nonverbal Nuisance**

Madeline couldn't stop what was happening: before she could separate them, Oliver's fist landed directly between his eyes. There was a sickening _crunch_ and blood began coursing from his nose.

**Thanks for reading! :3**


	5. Nonverbal Nuisance

**Chapter 5: Nonverbal Nuisance**

Brief authorial warning: the language becomes more "mature" in this chapter.

* * *

"Er, what do you mean by 'slashed?'" Nicolas asked Richard the next morning at breakfast. Madeline and Claire were both eating toast while Richard told them what he had overheard before they came into the Great Hall. Madeline stared at her friend, her mouth agape and her toast in hand.

"Apparently the hippogriff sliced his arm; they're all saying it's terrible. He's the Slytherin Seeker, still, I bet," said Richard, looking at Oliver. They were at the Gryffindor table this morning.

"I wonder if this means they'll have to find a new Seeker," said Oliver, frowning. "Reckon he's still in the Hospital Wing?"

"Probably. Hippogriffs are pretty dangerous, aren't they? Just be glad it wasn't Potter's arm that got sliced," said Claire as Fred and George sat down near enough to hear her. They budged over and joined their conversation.

"If Harry's arm had been sliced, he'd be alright by now," said George.

"Too right, George. Harry'd be back in class today," continued Fred. "Malfoy's just a poor excuse for a wizard, is all."

"A blubbering idiot, for sure," nodded George.

"More like blubbering baby," said Claire.

"You know, he nearly pissed himself when the dementor showed up on the train," said Fred. "Thanks again for the chocolate, Madeline. It was quite helpful."

"Oh, well, Professor Lupin asked us to pass it out, you know—"

"Speaking of, I've heard his class yesterday went really well," said Nicolas.

"I heard that too. The fourth years were all talking about it last night," said George. "Seems to be a good fit for the job, eh?"

"I don't know if he'll last longer than a year, though. It looks as though one good hex could snuff him—"

"Fred!" cried Madeline. "Stop saying things like that. We _want_ him to stay."

"We haven't even had class with him yet and I _know_ he's better than that Lockhart idiot," said Richard. "I can't wait for his lesson. Last year's Defense Against Dark Arts class was an utter joke."

Lockhart was, to Madeline's knowledge, the only professor Richard had ever said a word against; he usually got on well with all of the professors, even Professor Snape. With that, Fred and George became distracted by Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson wanting to know why they had been talking about Draco Malfoy. Fred was quite up to telling the story to the lovely ladies, of course.

When the time came, Madeline made her way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The room was open, but there was no one yet inside. Madeline and Claire sat together toward the front of the room, talking excitedly about what their lesson could be about. The classroom filled quickly; it seemed as though all of the other NEWT students were excited as well. Percy, who sat near the front as well, took out his book and parchment and ink. As the bells rang, Professor Lupin walked in looking cheery and healthier. The class, which was one of the largest NEWT classes as a result of their previous years of inconsistent instruction, sat quietly and waited for the bells to stop ringing.

"Good morning. My name is Professor Lupin. While Dumbledore has given me a summary of your progress in this subject, I would like your opinion on where you all stand. The NEWT exam in this subject is rather more difficult than students tend to give it credit for, and I do not want you all to be or feel under-prepared. I therefore hope you will be honest with me."

At this, Richard raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"Callaghan. Richard Callaghan. In my opinion, we're very behind."

"Yeah," piped up Peter Stott without raising his hand. "I didn't learn a damn thing last year, except how to spot a nutter when I see one."

At Peter's comment, the class took advantage of the free-flowing discussion, and everyone began speaking out against Lockhart.

"That Lockhart man turned out to be a _phony_—" said Kendra Hurst, looking upset.

"He didn't know anything—" began Percy indignantly.

"I don't know how I got my OWL, honestly—" said Murray Clute.

Madeline raised her hand, feeling rather bad about bombarding the new professor, and waited until he acknowledged her. Lupin had been casually leaning against the front of his desk during their rant, his features lined with mild concern.

"Yes, Miss Palmer?"

"I agree with Richard, I believe that we're all quite behind in this subject. We haven't practiced nonverbal spells _at all_ except with Professor Flitwick, and we're only now beginning that."

The class began murmuring assent, and Professor Lupin nodded.

"Allow me to warn you, then, that this class will most likely be very difficult. You may be more prepared than you think, but we won't know unless we get started. Right then. If you don't mind standing and putting away your things, you'll only be needing your wand."

With a wave of his wand, Professor Lupin vanished all of the tables and chairs in the classroom, leaving the students standing around awaiting further instruction.

"Have you all had practice disarming opponents?" he asked.

"Oh, yes sir. Professor Snape taught us that one last year at the dueling club," said Penelope Clearwater lightly. Though he seemed shocked at the idea of a dueling club, or the idea of Snape teaching them, Professor Lupin didn't comment.

"Alright. Now, who can tell me the incantation for the stunning spell?"

Percy raised his hand immediately and said, "Stupefy."

"Correct. Take five points," said Lupin, smiling. "Now please raise your hand if you can perform this spell."

At this, everyone looked around at each other. They all, Madeline included, tentatively raised their hands.

"Excellent, thank you. You aren't too far behind, then. I would like you all to pair up and stand across from your partners," said Professor Lupin. He then conjured poufs and mats and placed them strategically around the room. "I would like you all to take turns stunning your partner. Not all at once, please."

They all spent the better part of a quarter of an hour showing Professor Lupin that they could properly stun an opponent, many of them getting the spell correct on the first try.

"Superb, all of you. I would now like for you to attempt performing the stunning spell nonverbally," he instructed.

This was rather more difficult, and they spent the remainder of the class working on nonverbal stunning. By the end, Richard was the only one capable of fully stunning his partner. Professor Lupin awarded Ravenclaw ten points for this feat.

"For homework, I would like you to practice doing simple spells and charms wordlessly. This will be beneficial to every aspect of your study, and I recommend you doing this as often as possible. I will speak with Professor Flitwick as well; I don't want to cover anything he may be planning to show you. Have a good day."

As the bell rang, the class found their bags and filed out. They all headed to Potions (except Murray Clute and Peter Stott, who hadn't received good enough OWLs), talking animatedly about their lesson. Marcus Flint, who had been notably quiet in their classes thus far, was openly criticizing Professor Lupin.

"I can't believe we're supposed to learn how to pass the NEWT from that shit professor," he was saying. "I mean, did you see what he was wearing?"

Madeline turned around to see Oliver staring at Flint darkly, but she soon caught his eye, and they had a pseudo-conversation with their eyes in the middle of the corridor:

_He's not worth it._

_But he just makes me so _mad**_._**

_It's the second day back. Don't go starting anything._

_I don't ever _start_ anything!_

Flint was out of hearing distance, but Nicolas, Claire, and Richard had stopped to wait on Oliver and Madeline.

"Just knock him off his broom when you play Slytherin. Or have the twins put him unconscious during the match, either works," she said in a mildly chastising manner. "Which, of course, I don't condone, seeing as I'm Head Girl."

Madeline turned on her heel and began walking away as they all laughed. She grinned at her friends, and Nicolas caught up with her and took hold of her hand as they made their way to the dungeons.

Their first Potions lesson was, to put it gently, a disaster.

Professor Snape lectured them on the increased difficulty of their upcoming year, and then told them to begin brewing Deflating Draughts, a particularly tricky potion that is used for shrinking swollen items. The class set to work, but almost instantly, Margaret and Penelope's cauldrons inexplicably caught fire. Panicking, the girls fumbled away from their cauldrons, bumping into Madeline and Nicolas' table and causing their boiling water (they hadn't added any ingredients yet) to scald their arms and torsos. Snape rushed forward, put out the fires, and told Madeline to stop shrieking, though she had only been whimpering. Instead of keeping quiet, Madeline performed the drying spell that Professor Lupin had taught her. She then attempted to perform the spell on Nicolas nonverbally, thinking of what Professor Lupin had told them, and was successful. When Snape inspected their burns, he insisted that it wasn't severe, performed a cooling spell to dull the pain, and told them to get back to work.

"Miss Bradbury, Miss Clearwater, you may retrieve extra cauldrons from the supplies closet. Ten points from Ravenclaw for your foolishness. Don't let it happen again," Snape hissed.

Madeline saw that Nicolas was furious, his arms (which had received the majority of his spill, as he had tried to stabilise the table) were inflamed and an angry shade of pink. Oliver, who was far enough away from them to avoid the accident, was glaring daggers at Marcus Flint, who was failing to suppress snickers. Madeline watched as he grinned at Temperance, but she rolled her eyes and told him to "sod off." Madeline continued working on her potion and was too focused on her work to dwell on the incident other than the insistent burning of her arms and torso. Once she had finished her potion, which was a dusty brown color, she brought up a sample to Professor Snape, who nodded twitchily at it—Madeline knew this to be his way of accepting her work.

She returned to her seat and vanished the contents of her cauldron as Nicolas was scooping a sample of his potion into a smaller container. It too was a dusty brown color. Margaret and Penelope, who both looked as harassed as possible, were at least ten minutes behind the rest of the class. Madeline watched disinterestedly as everyone else began bringing samples up to Professor Snape. Oliver, who finished right after Percy, was carrying his sample to Snape's desk when, suddenly, his sample exploded. Snape let out a roar of rage and Madeline turned to Flint and looked for any signs of guilt. Seeing his wand in his hand, Madeline pulled her wand out of her robes and stood, pointing her wand at him.

"Drop you wand, Flint," she said loudly. Everyone turned to look at her, even those who were still working, and Snape made his way towards her after fixing Oliver's shrunken arm.

"You should not be raising your wand to another student, Miss Palmer, as Head Girl," he said.

"And students shouldn't be performing nonverbal explosion spells on other students," she shot back, lowering her wand as she faced Snape. "Flint was the only one holding a wand at the time of the fires and the explosion. His behavior is appalling, and I trust, as his Head of House, that you will personally see to his punishment."

Snape, sensing no alternative, narrowed his eyes at Madeline. She wasn't going to back down; she'd go to Dumbledore if she needed to, and Snape knew it. He didn't take any points away; he simply told Flint to see him after class to arrange his detention. Flint glared at Madeline, who didn't return his gaze. She wasn't going to let him get away with being so blatantly harmful and, worst of all, idiotic about it. Madeline just couldn't believe that Flint and Oliver's animosity was already at this level, but she was thankful that it happened in a classroom—if it had been in a corridor, Madeline wasn't sure if Oliver would have remained calm.

Class ended soon after, and everyone exited hurriedly. When they were close to the Entrance Hall, but still in the dungeons, Claire stopped to inspect Madeline and Nicolas' burns. Oliver stopped and began fuming.

"I just… I can't believe he would do that," he said. "Bloody git."

"Yes you can," Nicolas replied darkly. "It's no surprise."

"I can't believe he's been practicing nonverbal spells like that," said Madeline. "I really feel behind—"

"Well you should, Palmer. You're clearly not up to scratch," said Flint, who was suddenly behind them with a few of his Slytherin cronies, Warrington and Bole.

"If that means not cursing people in class like an _idiot_ then I don't feel so bad," she replied coolly.

"You know, Palmer, you're awful mouthy for a Hufflepuff. I like 'em feisty, I do. If you weren't Mudblood-lover, I'd try to—"

"Try to _what_, Flint?" said Oliver, stepping forward. His jaw was squared, and Madeline knew he was working hard not to lose his temper. Claire threw her arm out to stop him from advancing too far. Madeline felt Nicolas take hold of her elbow.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Wood," said Flint, his dark eyes flashing. "You couldn't keep a bint to save your life—"

"Shut it, Flint, I mean it," said Oliver, his eyes growing darker and his body tensing, preparing to attack. Madeline made a move toward him, but Nicolas pulled her back into his arms.

"You're probably more rubbish in bed than on the pitch," he continued. He and his cronies chuckled at his words.

"Oh, please," said Claire loudly. "You've never even had a girlfriend. No girl would ever go near a troll like you."

"Watch your mouth, Mudblood," Flint spat, cracking his knuckles. He bared his awful teeth.

"Don't you call her that!" said Oliver, his voice rising.

"Or what, Wood? You'd let me fuck that Head Girl of yours?"

Everyone instantly knew Flint had gone too far. Madeline couldn't stop what was happening: before she could separate them, Oliver's fist landed directly between Flint's eyes. There was a sickening _crunch_ and blood began coursing from his nose. Madeline broke free of Nicolas' grip as Flint's cronies made their way toward Oliver, but Richard was faster than all of them—within seconds, the Slytherin cronies were stunned. Madeline reached Oliver, pulled him off, and stunned Flint.

For a moment, they all stood there, the Slytherins stunned and everyone else tense. Flint's nose was bleeding profusely. Oliver was breathing hard, and Madeline rounded on him.

"What the bloody hell was that, Oliver?!"

"You heard him!"

"I did, but you _hit_ him!"

"He deserved it! Are we really going to get into this _again_?!"

Madeline gazed at Oliver, looking slightly hurt.

"I should take points away from Gryffindor for you hitting him," she said, still looking at him.

"Can we just get out of here, _please?_" said Claire, her tone panicky. "Someone else can rennervate them when they find them—"

"No!" replied Madeline. "That's not how this works!"

"_Go on, then!_ Take points from me! Did you even _hear_ what he said about you and Claire?" Oliver shouted.

"I heard him, Oliver, but that doesn't give you license to hurt him!"

Then, without warning, Madeline saw Richard step forward, frown, and point his wand at her. That was when Madeline unwillingly met darkness.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Tension**

"Are you still mad at me?"

"If you know the answer, why bother asking?"


	6. Tension

**Chapter 6: Tension**

"If we are the same person before and after we love, that means we haven't loved enough." - Elif Shafak, _The Forty Rules of Love_

* * *

Madeline woke up with pain in her arms, torso, and head. The headache was what woke her up—her head was pounding as if her heart had been transplanted up there. As she became more awake, memories began flashing into her mind's eye.

_"What the bloody hell was that, Oliver?"_

Madeline remembered their argument, but she couldn't remember what happened afterwards. Why couldn't she remember? What had happened to her?

She then heard Claire's voice, and made sure to keep her eyes closed. Where was she?

"Do you think she'll be mad at us?"

"Yeah, I do. She'll be furious," said Richard's voice. He sounded upset. That was when it flashed back at her—Richard had stunned her, probably nonverbally, before she could rennervate Flint and his cronies.

"What else could we have done?" asked Claire.

"Nothing, that's why I stunned her," he whispered. "She and Oliver would have fought, and Nick would have joined in at some point, and then someone would have found us, and it… it was just better to stun her and tell Madame Pomfrey that she got hit in the fray."

So she was in the Hospital Wing, which explained why she was lying down and why Claire and Richard sounded so close. They were probably at her side, waiting for her to wake up so they could apologise and explain their actions. Madeline clenched her fist. _So it was easier to stun me, eh, easier for the lot of them to keep me quiet? Well, I suppose Richard's right, Oliver and Nick would have been set off against each other again—but that excuses neither his actions nor Oliver's._

Madeline felt her heart swell. Nicolas had been the only one—other than herself—who had acted responsibly. At least she didn't have to be mad at her boyfriend. Knowing that he would at least be on her side, and taking comfort from that, Madeline opened her eyes, prepared to face her friends. It was darker outside than she expected.

"Maddie, how are you feeling?" asked Claire. It had taken her a few moments to notice that she was awake.

"Awful, no thanks to you," she said, looking at Richard. Richard didn't say anything; he simply looked down at his hands.

"We told Madame Pomfrey that the Slytherins tried to attack us, and that you got hit from trying to stop Oliver from hurting them."

Madeline, who had sat up at this point, stared at her friend. Claire had lied. She had lied to Madame Pomfrey, and probably to any professors who had seen them. But how had they explained what happened to Flint? Anyone could have seen he had been hit.

"We also fixed Flint's nose and cleaned up the blood before we took you here," said Richard, nearly reading her mind.

"What else happened?" she asked, her eyes shut tight, not only from the pain in her head, but from anger as well. If she hadn't been in the Hospital Wing, she probably would have been yelling at them already.

"Professor Flitwick found us as we were taking you up here, and we told him what happened—"

"You mean your garbled version of what happened?"

"Yes," said Claire sharply. "We told him that they attacked us, which they _did._"

"Really? I don't remember them raising a _hand or wand_," she said. At that point, Madame Pomfrey exited her office and bustled over to them. "It's a good thing I didn't have any other classes, today, isn't it?"

When Madame Pomfrey reached her, she told Claire and Richard to leave, which they did at once. She then began quizzing Madeline about her pain and symptoms.

"Please take this," she said, handing her a potion for the pain. Madeline swallowed it and laid herself back down. "You'll need to stay here tonight. I want to check on those burns in the morning."

"I can't go down for dinner?"

"Dinner's over, dear. You've been out all afternoon and all evening. Your body needs plenty of rest, which is why you're staying put."

"But my boyfriend, Nick, he's been burned too—"

"Yes, I saw him when he checked in on you this afternoon. He'll be coming back in the morning, at which point you will be free to leave. Now, would you like a sleeping draught?"

Madeline nodded, took the extra potion, and fell into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Madeline awoke to hearing Nicolas' voice.

"How is she doing?" he asked. His thumb was stroking her hand, and Madeline opened her eyes and smiled at him.

"Just fine," said Madame Pomfrey's voice from the other side of the Hospital Wing. She was checking on a sleeping Draco Malfoy.

"Hey," Nicolas said, smiling at her. Madeline, who was feeling much better this morning, sat up and kissed him briefly.

"How are your burns?"

"Much less angry," he replied, showing her his arms. His burns were much better, and as she looked down at her own arms, she found the same to be true for herself as well.

Madame Pomfrey gave them both a one day's supply of a burn salve, told them to apply it tonight, and let Madeline leave. Madeline didn't have class until that afternoon, when she would have double Herbology, but went to breakfast with Nicolas because she was hungry from not eating dinner the night before. The Great Hall was relatively empty when they entered, but she quickly saw Oliver sitting with Claire and Richard at the Ravenclaw table. Instead of going to join them, Madeline took a seat at the near-empty Hufflepuff table. Nicolas stood there for a moment but soon sat next to her.

"You're mad at them?"

"Yes," said Madeline.

"May I ask why?"

"Well, actually, I'm angry _and_ appalled," said Madeline.

"We handled the situation the best we could, considering," he said, looking at her.

Madeline didn't return his gaze. She ate her breakfast as quickly as possible. Clearly Nicolas didn't understand either. As she drained a glass of orange juice, she heard him sigh.

"I should tell Percy," she said, her body tensing. She clenched her fists. "Or McGonagall. Do you think _they_ would be angry with all of you? I shouldn't be the bad guy for trying to do what is _right._"

"Percy loves telling people they're wrong," he said, rolling his eyes, trying to make light of the situation. Madeline wasn't having it.

"_No_," she said, standing. She didn't care who heard her, and she wasn't sure if anyone was listening anyway. "I won't stand for this anymore. He may be a prat, and he may be annoying, but Percy does what is right, which is more than I can say of any of you."

With that, Madeline made her way to her room, thanking Helga Hufflepuff that none of her friends knew how to get into her Common Room. It had been the one secret she hadn't told Claire or Oliver.

After a shower and a new change of clothes, Madeline felt placated. The shower had given her time to calm down before class, where she would see Nicolas, Claire, and Oliver again. Richard didn't like Herbology, and neither did any of the other seventh year Ravenclaws—Claire was the only one taking it. The rest of the class was comprised of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, as none of the Slytherins had thought it worth taking after fifth year. She was lying on her bed, eyes closed, and wishing she could sleep when Elaine walked in.

"There you are! I heard you were in the Hospital Wing _all day_ yesterday! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. We had a bit of trouble after Potions," she replied, sitting up. She briefly told Elaine what happened, all of it, including the part where Oliver had punched Flint. She then asked her not to tell anyone, as no one knew about their actions.

"I won't tell anyone. But you're mad at Oliver again, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm mad at all of them for taking his side, too."

"Madeline, you _do_ remember that none of them are Hufflepuffs, don't you?" Elaine asked, giving her a queer look. "Sometimes I think you forget that you're not a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."

Madeline stared at Elaine. Was she right? Did Madeline really feel like a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw? She thought about it—how often did she spend time in her own common room? And for Merlin's sake she was dating a Gryffindor!

"It sounds like they were just defending you," Elaine continued when Madeline didn't say anything. "I know, as Head Girl, you have to be all about the rules, but it'd be stupid to be mad at them for too long, especially Nick. He really cares about you. They all do."

"They just left them there!" she said, fuming again. "They stunned me—their friend, the Head Girl—and left the victims _lying on the ground_. They weren't protecting me; they were saving their own skins!"

"Look, I'm not going to argue because I don't want you mad at me, as I have to live with you and that would be awkward. Just… don't stay mad at them too long. Oliver was clearly protecting you, and Nick and Richard are just supporting him. Would you like to go to lunch with Murray and I?"

Madeline nodded, put her shoes on, and followed Elaine out of the common room. At lunch, Madeline sat with the Hufflepuffs, who all looked pleased to see her. Cedric Diggory sat next her and they talked about Quidditch.

"The tryouts will be in two weeks. I'm really hoping to put a strong team together."

"I'm looking forward to it. I may need to go practice some before tryouts," she said, thinking about when she would have time to do that. The prospect of playing Quidditch certainly cheered Madeline up a bit, but her doubts about having time surged forward. She didn't want to worry Cedric, though. "Are you planning on staying Seeker, then?"

"Er, yes. Peter will stay on as a Beater, and Michael Purdy will still be our Keeper. But we need to have tryouts for another Beater and three Chasers. Peter will probably help me pick the Beater, as he'll have to work closely with him... or her."

Madeline didn't take much offense to his hesitation, as there weren't any female Beaters at Hogwarts, and most of the Beaters in the league were men.

"For the Chasers, though, I just want to see who the best is. I want it to be a fair, even ground, you know?"

Madeline's heart swelled. He was so sweet, so full of _integrity_. It was wonderful.

"You should be Head Boy your seventh year, Cedric. I'll tell Dumbledore. You'd be a good one," she said, smiling at him.

"Me, Head Boy? I can't be—I wasn't made prefect."

"Oh, you don't have to be a prefect to be Head Boy," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Dumbledore chooses the best candidates from the seventh years. Just because you weren't a prefect doesn't mean you wouldn't be a good candidate."

"Really?" he said, beaming at her again. His eyes were very bright, and Madeline felt herself smiling sweetly at him.

"Of course. In my fifth year, Dumbledore told me a story about a Head Boy who hadn't been a prefect. He said it doesn't happen often, but in that case, he felt he had made the right decision," she replied. "It's based on personality, sometimes, I think. Percy and I don't always get along, but we're a good team."

"You ready?" asked Elaine, who stood as Murray did. Peter Stott and Kendra Hurst were standing at the door to the Entrance Hall, presumably waiting on them. Madeline smiled at Cedric, bid him goodbye, and joined Elaine as she made her way out of the Great Hall.

Outside, the day was bright and clear, and there was hardly any wind; the ceiling in the Great Hall had only given Madeline a small taste of the weather. The sun was beating down on them rather harshly, and by the time the four Hufflepuffs and Kendra had made it to the greenhouses, they were sweating a bit. Madeline, who recalled Snape's cooling charm, attempted it. She succeeded and then turned to Elaine.

"Here, let me try a spell—"

"What spell?" she asked, jumping away from her roommate.

"It's a cooling charm. See? I'm not sweating anymore," Madeline replied. Elaine shrugged and allowed Madeline to attempt the charm nonverbally.

"Did it work?" Madeline asked, her voice and face hopeful.

"Mmm, maybe once more."

The second time, Elaine squealed a bit.

"Eee! Yep, that's definitely cooler," she said.

"Excellent. I'm getting better at this nonverbal business," Madeline said happily as the rest of the Gryffindors entered, Claire in tow. Claire sat across the table from Madeline and smiled tentatively at her, but Madeline couldn't return it. She looked at her sadly, and then turned to the front as Professor Sprout entered the greenhouse, immediately beginning their lesson.

"Hello, class. Today we will be preparing asphodel for Professor Snape. Who can tell me what potions asphodel is most commonly used in?"

Elaine, who was rather fond of Herbology, raised her hand.

"It's used for the Draught of the Living Dead and the Wiggenweld Potion."

"Yes, take five points, Miss Ellison. Now, who can tell me which part of this plant is used in these potions? Yes, Miss Denson?"

"The root of asphodel is most commonly made into a powder. The roots must be sliced into narrow strips, placed in a mortar, and crushed using a pestle," said Claire.

"Precisely, take five points for Ravenclaw. That is what you all shall be doing today. You each have stalks of asphodel roots. You simply must slice the roots—like this, chaps—into pieces such as this," she said, showing them a piece of root the size of a match. "You then crush them in the mortars and deposit the powder in the jars on the table. The powder should be quite fine before you deposit it."

Madeline began slicing her roots carefully. She had a strategy—she would slice her entire stalk's roots and then go about the crushing. Elaine and Murray were both crushing every slice individually. Madeline frowned. _That can't be faster. _Professor Sprout went to work on her own stalk, slicing and crushing it very quickly, and then walking around and showing everyone what the powder should look like. She had gone about it the same way Madeline was—first slicing all of it, then crushing all of it—except in a more practiced manner. Madeline was finished with her first stalk and was moving onto another when Professor Sprout joined her.

"Excellent, Miss Palmer, take five points for finishing a stalk before anyone else," she said, smiling at her. Madeline smiled in return.

"Thank you, Professor."

After checking on each student in the class, Professor Sprout made an announcement.

"I need to take care of a few plants in another greenhouse while you continue slicing and crushing. I'll be checking in every little while, so please keep working. I'll expect at least five stalks' worth from each of you."

With that, she left the greenhouse, her figure walking swiftly into the adjacent greenhouse. Madeline, who had completed two stalks at this point, stretched her fingers and cracked her achy knuckles. She was massaging in between her thumb and index finger when she heard a dull _crack_. Looking up, she saw that it was Oliver, who had been pounding the roots so hard that the mortar cracked and split open. He blinked at it in disbelief and then looked around for another mortar. Madeline looked around as well and saw that there was a stack of mortars and a box of pestles behind her. Though she could have passed it down the table, everyone else was so preoccupied with her work that none of them had even noticed what had happened. Oliver made his way towards the front of the room, where he walked around the long table, coming to the stack of mortars. Trying her hand at another nonverbal spell, Madeline levitated Oliver's spilled powder into his jar and then his broken mortar behind her, next to the others. When she turned around, he was looking at her, his face showing that he was torn between being furious and feeling guilty.

"Are you still mad at me?" he asked, his voice tentative.

"If you know the answer, why bother asking?" she said, meeting his gaze, which turned steely at her words. He looked as though he was ready to break all of the mortars. Feeling sick to her stomach, Madeline turned away, grabbed another stalk, and began slicing its roots. She stared at her hands, watching carefully. She didn't want to be around anyone anymore, so when Murray and Elaine started a conversation, she got annoyed. She didn't want to have to listen to them talk about Hogsmeade when all of her closest friends were mad at her. She began shaking, her roots being cut less evenly, and slammed the knife down in fury. She hadn't done anything wrong. They shouldn't be mad at her. She was looking at Oliver again, who looked surlier than before, when Professor Sprout came in to check on them. Madeline felt another surge of nausea, much more powerful than before, and ran out of the greenhouse with her hand over her mouth. Out behind the greenhouse, Madeline's breakfast and lunch came up. Professor Sprout came running up behind her.

"Madeline, my dear! Are you alright!?" Madeline shook her head, crying at the pain that was now in her stomach and throat. She heard footsteps coming towards her, and then Professor Sprout was saying, "Everyone back in that greenhouse! Miss Palmer has taken ill—Miss Ellison would mind escorting her back to the castle?"

"Professor, would you mind if I took—"

"Mr. Tennant, I believe I asked you to get back in the greenhouse," said Professor Sprout sharply. "Please get back to work, all of you."

"But, Professor—"

"No! Get back in there before I take points away from Gryffindor. You too, Mr. Wood, go! She's not some spectacle to be laughed or ogled at," said Professor Sprout sternly, who was getting angry that her students weren't listening to her. "Elaine, yes, that's the ticket, dear."

Elaine helped her to stand, as Madeline had fallen to her knees while vomiting. Her head began spinning as she stood, but Elaine helped her steady herself. Before they left, Professor Sprout brought out Madeline's bag and handed it to Elaine.

Slowly but surely, Elaine helped Madeline walk to the Hospital Wing. They had to duck in the girl's lavatory on the second floor during another spell of nausea. Madeline had never been to Madame Pomfrey this many times in a whole year, let alone twice in one day. Upon entering the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey gave Madeline a look of great concern.

"What happened?"

"She got sick during Herbology," said Elaine. "She's still very nauseous."

Madeline nodded, but stopped as it made her head spin.

"Come, lie down, Miss Palmer," said Madame Pomfrey.

"I'll check on you after class," said Elaine, who then hurried back down to the greenhouse. Madeline knew Elaine was trying to make it for the second half of their double lesson.

Lying down, Madeline felt a little better. She wasn't lightheaded anymore. Madame Pomfrey retrieved a bucket from her office and showed Madeline where she was placing it, right next to her bed, in case she had another spell.

"What happened, dear? Did you touch something poisonous?"

"No, we were crushing asphodel," said Madeline. Madame Pomfrey had her sit up, drink a potion and a glass of water. She couldn't finish the glass—she had to lie back down from feeling lightheaded.

"Hmm. Asphodel doesn't usually have that effect. What else have you done today?"

"After I left here, I went to breakfast, because I was hungry, and then I showered and went to lunch and double Herbology. Nothing difficult or straining. And I'm not tired," she added quickly, her head spinning again. Lying down seemed to help with her nausea, though, as she didn't feel a spell coming on. Or maybe it was the potion.

"Is that all?" Madame Pomfrey asked, looking rather suspicious. Madeline didn't have to strength to argue or lie.

"I... I got mad at some of my friends; that's all," Madeline replied.

"That's rather straining, if I do say so myself. I'll let the lass who brought you up here check on you, but you won't be having any other visitors. Try to get some sleep."

"I'm not tired," said Madeline, but Madame Pomfrey gave her a challenging look, and she quailed. Madame Pomfrey went to her office and closed the door, leaving Madeline alone with no one but a fully-conscious Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Whispers**

"You're an idiot."

"Just because you're Head Girl doesn't mean you can speak to me that way!"


	7. Whispers

**Chapter 7: Whispers**

If you're reading this, it's because you're awesome. =)

* * *

Madeline sat up stared at Draco Malfoy—she had completely forgotten that he had been injured. His blond hair looked like he hadn't had a chance to run a comb through it many days, and his arm was held up by a sling. He was in the bed across from her looking like he was in a lot of pain.

"What are you staring at, Palmer?" he asked, his voice sounding disgusted. It tended to sound like that any time he addressed a Hufflepuff, she noticed.

"Heard you got attacked by a hippogriff," she said lightly.

"I did, as you can tell by the state of my arm. Father's furious—he's going to have the mad hippogriff executed, and hopefully have that oaf fired," he said, sounding pleased. Madeline assumed he meant Hagrid.

"I heard you were the only one attacked, meaning that the hippogriff isn't mad. You insulted it, didn't you?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Malfoy scoffed, turning his head away. "That hippogriff could've killed all of us."

"You're an idiot," said Madeline, who laughed. "You _did_ insult it, didn't you? Hagrid probably even told you not to."

"Just because you're Head Girl doesn't mean you can speak to me that way!" he cried.

"I can't tell you you're stupid for doing something, well, _stupid_?"

"That hippogriff went mad, nearly maimed Goyle—"

"Oh, honestly, Malfoy, there's no need to lie to me. Now, if you don't mind my asking, are you still going to be able to play Quidditch next month, or did the hippogriff take out a chunk of your arm?" she asked, smiling at him.

His anger drained from him quickly, possibly because it was straining his arm. After a few moments, in which he could have been deciding whether or not to respond, he said, "Yeah, hopefully. I don't know how useful my arm will be, though."

"That bad?" she asked, eyebrows up.

"Yes, Palmer, it's bad," he said, clenching his jaw. "That old bat would have let me go sooner if it weren't serious."

Madeline narrowed her eyes at him. Why did he have to insult everyone, even Madame Pomfrey, who was clearly a very patient and talented Healer?

"Say, Malfoy, is Flint a good Captain?" she asked, hoping his honest streak would continue long enough for her to get some information out of him. Malfoy shrugged the best he could with his arm bandaged.

"He's nothing brilliant, of course, but he does have a mind for strategy. He's planning on having really large players this year. I can't wait until he leaves though—I'll be a much better Captain," he replied, smirking. "I heard Diggory is Hufflepuff's Captain. Think he'll be any good?"

"I do, actually," she said, nodding. "I'm hoping to be one of his Chasers."

She had looked out the window nearest her for a moment, and when Malfoy didn't say anything, she turned to look at him. He was making a face reminiscent of a child watching a puppy being ran over by a Muggle car.

"What?" she asked, shocked by his expression.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Malfoy said quietly. She could tell that he wasn't threatening her—he was warning her.

"Why?" Madeline breathed, her eyes wide. Malfoy suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable, and she thought that she might need to ask him so he didn't have to actually _say_ anything.

"Is it to do with Flint?" she asked. Malfoy nodded, looking away from her. She still gazed at him. "Does he… talk about me?"

Malfoy nodded again, closing his eyes. He then made a pained expression, and Madeline realised that he might need another dose of pain potion. She saw that the bottle was sitting on his bedside table, so she walked over and poured him a dose of it.

"How long has it been since you've had a dose?"

"A while," he said, grimacing from the pain.

"Here," she said, handing his good arm the cup. He looked at it skeptically but drained it.

"You better not have just poisoned me, Palmer," he said, his voice thick from the potion.

"I'm going to be a Healer when I leave, Malfoy. I wouldn't ever poison anyone, not even a Slytherin," she said, sitting on the side of his bed. Though he seemed mildly shocked, he didn't protest.

"Most of us don't hate you," he said, looking up and away from her. She knew he meant the Slytherins. "But Flint…."

Malfoy trailed off, his jaw set. Madeline noticed that he had grown a lot over the summer, just as Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had. They were all nearly her height, except Harry, who was smaller. Was it a third year thing? She couldn't remember growing much at their age.

"What does he want with me?" she asked. She tried not to sound urgent, even though she felt like her heart was going to catapult right out of her chest.

"He wants to hurt you, to get back at Wood," he said, looking at her as though terrified at the thought of hurting someone. Was it a front? "He thinks it would distract him from Quidditch if he hurts you, or something. He's been talking about it since last year."

Madeline took a deep breath and nodded.

"Just… don't go near him. And never go to the dungeons or Quidditch pitch alone. _Ever_," said Malfoy, his expression now quite firm. "You have plenty of friends. I wouldn't walk around alone if I were you."

If Madeline hadn't been terrified, she would have felt that he was insulting her ability to defend herself. Instead, she watched his face screw up in pain. She thanked him quietly for his information, and she stood, walked over to Madame Pomfrey's office, and knocked on the door.

"Yes?" she asked. She was shocked to see Madeline out of bed, but before she could say anything, Madeline explained.

"Mr. Malfoy needs the Dreamless Sleep Draught. He's in a lot of pain, but I've already given him a dose of the pain treatment potion that was on his bedside table."

Madame Pomfrey gave Madeline a harsh look, retreated into her office to obtain the sleeping draught, and walked over to him. After administering it to him, she rounded on Madeline.

"Miss Palmer, I am quite aware of your wanting to be a Healer, but you are not my assistant, and I would therefore appreciate your letting me attend to my own patients. Now, please get back into bed and do not leave it."

"Madame Pomfrey, I feel fine," she said, pleading. "I just got too upset earlier, I think—"

"Yes, and what would happen if you got upset this evening? You'd be back here yet again. Now, Miss Palmer, _lie down_."

Accepting defeat, Madeline lied down on her stomach, her face pressed to the pillow. After a few minutes of replaying everything Malfoy had told her, another wave of nausea came over Madeline, who reached over the side of the bed and vomited into the bucket. Madame Pomfrey, who had been clearing away a table near her, gave Madeline a look of triumph and walked away.

Elaine came in the Hospital Wing hours later, Nicolas and Claire in tow. Madame Pomfrey shooed the latter two away and allowed Elaine to sit next her Madeline, who had only been able to take a few 20-minute naps. Nicolas and Claire protested heavily, but Madame Pomfrey shut the doors on them. A few minutes later, however, someone opened the door to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey turned, quite ready to send Madeline's friends away, but Professor Lupin entered instead.

"Well, hello Remus," she said, her demeanor changing immediately. She smiled as fondly as if Professor Lupin was her firstborn son.

"How are you feeling?" Elaine asked, ignoring the two adults.

"Blech," Madeline replied, shrugging. She looked over to Professor Lupin, who was having a private conversation with Madame Pomfrey near her office.

"I wonder what's wrong with you," Elaine said. "Do you think it could have been from stress?"

"I certainly hope not. It's the first week!"

Elaine, who didn't know what to say after that, looked out the nearest window. Madame Pomfrey retreated into her office again while Professor Lupin walked over to Madeline.

"Hello," he said to them both warmly. "I've told Madame Pomfrey about what happened on the train—"

"But, Professor—"

"Yes, I know you pulled yourself together, but nausea is a normal symptom of an encounter with a dementor," he said, looking at her carefully. "And from what Professor Flitwick and Madame Pomfrey have told me, you've had a stressful few days."

"I didn't see anyone else getting sick! And that was Sunday—that can't be what it was. I just got a little stressed, but I'm fine now," she said stubbornly. "Honestly."

"Yes, well, you're the Head Girl, so we need you to take care of yourself," he said, in a chastising manner. Madame Pomfrey then bustled in with a bar of chocolate.

"I think you're right, Remus. I'll need to stock up on chocolate this year with those beasts at every entrance. This is the only bar I have," she said. She set the chocolate on Madeline's bedside table and cut it to pieces. "I'll have to tell Dumbledore."

"I'll tell him, Poppy. I've got to speak with him anyway," said Professor Lupin. "Miss Palmer, do take care of yourself. I want to see you in class on Friday. Good day."

With that, he turned and left the Hospital Wing. Madeline saw that Madame Pomfrey had cut the bar into four slices.

"You'll be staying here again, Miss Palmer," she said, and Madeline groaned. She was sick of the Hospital Wing. "No arguments. If you had told me about the dementor to begin with, you wouldn't be here again."

"That was Sunday evening!" said Madeline, her voice nearing a whine.

"Regardless, you'll be trying to eat a piece of chocolate every hour. If you can keep that down, I'll bring you a meal for dinner so you don't wake up starving again. If you don't become nauseous from all of that, I'll let you go to class in the morning."

"If I'm not needed, I'll go tell everyone that you're alright," said Elaine to Madeline, who nodded, a piece of chocolate in her mouth. Though the chocolate made her feel a little better, when Elaine left, Madeline felt lonely. Madame Pomfrey told her one last thing.

"Try to get some sleep, dear. I'll be waking you up when it's time for another piece."

* * *

Early the next morning, Madeline was relieved when Madame Pomfrey said she could leave. She hadn't slept well, but she hadn't gotten sick again. Feeling elated, Madeline walked down to her common room. She showered quickly, gathered her belongings, and went to the Great Hall. She stopped at the door and looked around. Oliver was sitting with Lee Jordan and the twins, Nicolas was sitting with Richard, and Claire was speaking with Margaret.

She decided to sit with Nicolas, who stood and hugged her when she made it to the Ravenclaw table.

"You gave us all quite a fright," he said as he touched her face. "You're feeling alright?"

Madeline nodded in response and sat next to him.

"Madame Pomfrey said we couldn't come see you," continued Nicolas.

"She told us that we were stressing you out," said Claire, frowning. "I'm sorry."

"I am too," said Richard. He reached out across the table and took her hand. Madeline smiled and squeezed his hand.

"It's alright. I just thought you all hated me for wanting to do—"

"The right thing?" asked Richard. "Yeah, Nick told us what you said. And, Madeline, you're right. We should've listened to you."

"You shouldn't have stunned _me_," she said to Richard, who nodded.

"I'm just glad you're alright," said Claire. "When Madame Pomfrey told us we couldn't come in, we thought you were angry with us."

"Nah, she was just worried, as usual," said Madeline, smiling. "Well, I mean, I was angry, but I didn't ban you from checking on me."

Without thinking, Madeline turned and looked over at the Gryffindor table. She found Oliver looking at his food again. He had a small smile on his lips, as though Lee had made a joke and he didn't find it quite as funny as they had. Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins were definitely laughing up a storm. Madeline turned around and took a swig of orange juice.

"He's worried about you, too," said Claire.

"Well, I'm still mad at him," said Madeline, though she didn't know why. After her conversation with Malfoy, Oliver had been the first one she had internally forgiven. It sounded as though she needed him to be that suspicious and quick to act, but she wasn't comfortable with him hitting Flint without physical provocation. Madeline looked up at hearing Richard sigh.

"I should still be angry with all of you," she said hotly. "You're lucky I didn't tell anyone, honestly."

She ate quickly again, knowing that they were going to bring it up again, and left before they could try to convince her not to be mad at them. Madeline was the first one to Transfiguration, and McGonagall was the last to enter.

"Miss Palmer," said McGonagall upon seeing her, "glad to see you're feeling well enough to be here."

Madeline said a small "thanks," but otherwise remained quiet. She hoped that she wouldn't be ill again for a very long time. McGonagall then asked them all to conjure rabbits, which everyone did successfully. The lesson then turned to note-taking on the science of conjuring living things. Madeline frowned—they couldn't have had this lesson before trying to actually conjure an animal?

"You all know, of course, that you cannot conjure food," McGonagall was saying.

The rest of the day passed quickly, as did class on Friday. Their Potions lesson was subdued Friday morning, especially after their exciting Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson about nonverbal jinxes. Professor Lupin had been pleased to see Madeline, but unlike Professor Flitwick and McGonagall, he hadn't said anything. Soon it was Friday afternoon, and Madeline found herself eating lunch alone at the Ravenclaw table with Richard, as Claire had offered to help Nicolas work on his Potions essay in the library. Madeline wasn't in any mind to work on an essay; she told herself that she would get it done this evening, as she didn't have anything going on except a brief meeting with the prefects after dinner.

"Maddie," said Richard, "have you spoken with Oliver?"

Madeline looked away from Richard's knowing eyes and decided not to reply. She hadn't spoken to Oliver since their conversation in Herbology on Wednesday, and she hadn't slept well because of it. She didn't like knowing that he was angry at her, but she didn't know what to say. Madeline also hadn't told anyone what Malfoy had said to her—everything was calm for now, and she didn't want to ruin it by causing an uproar.

"I only ask because, well, Nick's not here, and you haven't been the same since your argument. I know you're not angry with him."

"How?" she asked, meeting his eyes.

"Oliver's not the only one who knows you well," he said, smiling gently. "After seven years, you think I don't know how to read you? You look at him as though he's a ghost."

Madeline smiled sadly at Richard.

"I haven't spoken to him, no," she said, deciding to be honest with him. "It's made Nick happier, hasn't it?"

"Only because he can't see how it's destroying you," said Richard in his calm, calculated voice. Madeline didn't know what to say to that.

"He hasn't tried to talk to me," she said, frowning at the remains of her lunch. Richard knew she was speaking of Oliver. "He's probably still mad at me."

"You'd need to talk to him to be sure," he replied. Madeline shrugged. What would she say? She wasn't going to apologise for being _right_.

"When he left potions, he went up to the Gryffindor Tower, which means he was probably getting his broom."

"Of course he's on the pitch," she said with a snort. It was the one place Oliver could forget about anything. "Would you, er, walk out there with me?"

Richard gave her a questioning look but shrugged and got up with her. He waited in the Entrance Hall while Madeline ran to her room to grab her broom, and then they walked through the Entrance Hall and out to the Quidditch pitch. Once they were closer, Madeline could see Oliver alone, flying around the pitch. He was doing laps.

Once at the pitch, Madeline thanked Richard, who turned and waved goodbye. Soon Madeline was in the air, feeling uninhibited, and flying around the pitch. Instead of circles, Madeline did straight laps from one end of the pitch to the other, which required sharp turning around the goal posts. It didn't take Oliver long to notice that there was another player out there with him, but he didn't stop flying. After Madeline felt sufficiently warmed up, she attempted the Woollongong Shimmy, a zigzag formation that had given her trouble over the summer. After a few attempts, Madeline was winded and a little dizzy, so she landed on the ground and lied down. She closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths, and felt the dizziness subside. She sat up and opened her eyes, only to see Oliver walking over to her. He stopped when their eyes met as if she had pinned him there.

"Oliver," said Madeline, her voice small. He didn't move, but she stood, albeit slowly. She got a little lightheaded, but it passed. She wouldn't be attempting that formation again anytime soon.

"Alright?" he asked, his voice low. Madeline nodded.

"And you?"

"Could be better," he said, clenching his jaw. Madeline walked over to him until they were arms' length apart. He didn't move or say a word.

"Thank you," she said, closing her eyes and choosing her words carefully. "For protecting me."

Madeline could hear Malfoy's words in her head, Flint's words, and then, oddly, Professor Lupin's—the warning, the threat, and the plea—and she closed the distance, wrapping her arms around his waist. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she forced herself to push them away. It hadn't even been a week, and she had already cried a few times. Oliver pulled her closer. Though this was the most comforted she had felt since Sunday, she was still worried. She needed to tell Oliver about Flint. She pulled away from him slightly, looked up at his face, and said, "I have a lot to tell you."

They spent the next twenty minutes talking. Madeline had spent the first half explaining what Malfoy had told her, and they had been arguing for the last half.

"How can you trust anything he said?" Oliver asked. "He's a liar."

"Slytherins tend to only be liars when around other Slytherins. Temperance, for instance, is very lovely when she's not around her Housemates. I wish she would eat with us sometimes."

"So you believe him?"

"Don't you?" asked Madeline, looking at Oliver harshly. "Did anything Malfoy tell me sound like something Flint wouldn't say?"

"No," said Oliver, sighing.

"There's something else," she said. "He told me not to go to the dungeons or Quidditch pitch alone, _ever_. He said it like he was scared, Oliver, I could hear it."

Oliver, far from being scared, was absolutely livid.

"So he talks about you, does he? He threatens you, not only to your face, but behind your back as well?! And you wonder why I _hit_ him," Oliver said, pacing and fuming.

"Well, I don't anymore. And I haven't told anyone else, Oliver. You're the only one who knows about my conversation with Malfoy. I didn't want to worry anyone."

"Except me, right?" he asked, scoffing. "Why didn't you let Nick know? He'd love to worry about you."

Madeline sighed but thought about Oliver's words. Why hadn't she told Nick? Wasn't this something you tell your significant other? Madeline noted a hint of bitterness in Oliver's voice, but she didn't think much of it. Nick would have reacted poorly, as would have Claire and Richard, and though Oliver's reaction was far from ideal, it wasn't terrible. He wouldn't cause a scene. That was the reason she hadn't told them. Somehow she felt that Oliver should be the one to know.

"I wanted you to know," she said, shrugging. "You're my best mate, and you won't tell anyone if I ask you not to."

"I should," he said, his pacing halted. "I should tell McGonagall or Dumbledore that he keeps threatening you. The whole bloody school should know how foul he is!"

"But you won't, just like I didn't tell anyone that you actually hit him," said Madeline. "And I know that's different in your opinion, as he was threatening me verbally, but until he's actually done something _me_, we can't tell anyone. He hasn't ever cursed me or touched me, thank goodness."

"What, so we have to wait until he does? We have to _wait until he actually hurts you?!_" Oliver shouted, his face turning red. "Bloody hell! That's madness, Madeline, and I won't stand for it—"

"Oliver, there's nothing we can do," she shouted, grabbing his strong arms. He started to turn away from her, but Madeline placed her hands on either side of his face, effectively stopping him. "No, you listen to me. Flint's doing this just to mess with your head! He does it to upset you up because it _works_. He's probably hoping that it'll distract you from your game, so don't let it."

Oliver looked down, his breathing and coloration becoming normal again. He took a few deep breaths, and they stood there like that for a minute. Oliver then placed his hands on hers and closed his eyes.

"What if he hurts you? I don't know what I would do," he said, his voice thick.

"He won't permanently damage me," she said, smiling. She touched his cheek so that his eyes met hers. "And if he does, the consequences for his actions will be so severe that you wouldn't need to do anything."

"You're talking about it like it's a joke," he said, his eyes dark. "It's not. If he hurts you, he will pay the price."

Madeline stared up at Oliver for a moment. Who was the man standing before her? She stepped away from him and shook her head.

"You need to be the bigger man, Oliver, _the better man_," said Madeline, sounding hurt. Oliver attempted to bring her back, but she pulled away from him. "You're _better_ than that. Hurting him because he hurts me—or anyone, for that matter—is sinking to his level, and _that's_ why I get angry at you. But you still don't understand—it kills me to see you so angry and violent. And I know what you're thinking, but being violent on my behalf is still being _violent, _Oliver! I appreciate your protecting me and standing up for me, I really do. I care about you so much, more than almost anything, but I would never hurt someone for you unless I absolutely _needed_ to! It's not right."

With that, Madeline gave her best friend a sad look, picked up her broom, and flew to the Entrance Hall. From there, she walked to her dormitory, where she collapsed on her bed.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Tightening Security**

"What do you mean the Fat Lady's been attacked? Wasn't a hippogriff, was it?"


	8. Tightening Security

**Chapter 8: Tightening Security**

This is definitely the longest chapter yet. Woo! Bear in mind that some of J.K. Rowling's exact words will be used toward the end of the chapter. This is in no way meant to suggest that I own them; rather, it is meant to make my version of the story more believable. Enjoy! :3

* * *

Madeline's first weekend back to Hogwarts passed in a flurry of books and rolls of parchment. Snape, McGonagall, and Sprout had set essays for the following week, and because Madeline was dedicated to keeping her Sundays open for NEWT preparation, she spent all of Saturday in the library. Once she finished her essays, she began preparing for the next week's homework assignments, which meant doing extra reading on casting nonverbal spells. Claire and Richard spent Saturday morning with her, while Nicolas stayed with her Saturday afternoon and evening. Madeline knew Oliver would be on the pitch, but things were better between them (despite her dramatic exit), so she didn't worry. On Sunday, she began reviewing for the NEWTs. Over the summer, Madeline had prepared a review for each subject and year, meaning that she had about 34 study guides and roughly 35 weeks to study, excluding any notes from this year. If she could review more than one study guide per Sunday, she would relax; until then, she needed to review everything she had ever learned in the six exams she would be sitting.

Oliver joined her in the library Sunday morning. Madeline had risen early, eaten breakfast alone, and had made her way toward the library before anyone else. Oliver joined her around midmorning with a cup of coffee.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, looking around.

"Sleeping, I expect," she replied, her eyes still on her review guide.

"Oh. It's just us?"

Madeline nodded in response, yawned, and rubbed her eyes. She hadn't slept well the night before.

"Tired," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Mmm. Nick said it wouldn't be beneficial to start studying for an exam that's nine months away, just like in fifth year," she said.

"I'd rather do this than wait until the last minute," Oliver said, shrugging.

There was a pregnant pause in which Oliver nearly spoke again, but at the last minute, he took a sip of coffee instead. Madeline, who was quite aware of the awkward silence, decided that she would catch him up on what she had been doing before he arrived.

"I've been reviewing notes from first-year Charms. I don't think they'll have us perform any of these spells, but I want to be as prepared as possible, especially for the written exam."

"Right. I've forgotten—what did we learn first year?"

Madeline felt a laugh bubble up in her chest.

"That's—that's exactly why I wanted to review," she replied, laughing through her nose. "First year we learned _Lumos_, _Wingardium Leviosa_, _Incendio_, and _Spongify_, which we also did, I believe—yes, we did that in Defense Against the Dark Arts, too."

"Have you practiced those yet?" asked Oliver, who retrieved his wand from his pocket.

"No, not yet. I was just reading my notes."

"Shall we?" he asked, raising his wand. Madeline nodded.

"I want to practice these nonverbally, as well," she said.

After lunch, Claire and Richard joined them, at which point Madeline and Oliver were levitating books nonverbally. Nicolas, who saw them at dinner, had remained of the "it's too early to start studying" persuasion.

Monday passed without incident until dinner, when Madeline remembered that she had a meeting with Dumbledore, and she hadn't told Percy. She'd completely forgotten, what with trying to stop a fight, being stunned by her friend, getting sick, trying to recover, and catching up on homework. Madeline found Percy sitting with his brothers at the Gryffindor table.

"Hello, Percy," she said, smiling at him. She took a seat next to the youngest, Ron Weasley, and he looked at her funny. She gave him a curious look in return.

"Ron, stop ogling the Head Girl," said Percy irritably.

"Her name's _Madeline_, Perce. You don't have to refer to people by their titles," said Fred. Madeline chuckled appreciatively, and when she noticed that Oliver wasn't present, she looked to Fred and George.

"Is Oliver already at the pitch?" she asked.

"'eah," said George thickly, as he had just taken a bite of his pudding.

"Harry is as well," said Fred, nodding to Ron as though he were an unwelcome appendage.

"Of course they are," said Madeline before Ron could respond to his brother's nonverbal slight. "So, Percy, there's er—something I forgot to tell you."

He looked at her sharply but didn't say anything. She took a deep breath, hoping she was prepared for his reaction, and continued.

"We have a meeting with Dumbledore this evening at 8 pm. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she finished, grimacing. She expected him to get angry, but he simply stared at her.

"Did he say why?" Percy asked carefully.

"No, he didn't. He probably just wants to see how we're doing," she said, shrugging.

"Do you think we should write a report? Yes," he said, without waiting for her response. "I'll go run upstairs and—you don't have to worry, I'll do it—yes, it'll require some thought, however…."

With that, Percy stood up and hurried out the Great Hall. Madeline stared after him, as did his brothers. Ron's fork was halfway to his mouth, but after Percy had left the hall, Ron placed the fork back on his plate.

"What could he possibly write a report about?" Ron asked, turning to Madeline.

"No idea. Other than the dementors checking the train for Black, I can't imagine what he would write," she replied, shrugging.

"We've heard you were in the Hospital Wing twice last week, Madeline," said George, who was frowning. He looked more serious than she could recall ever seeing him or Fred.

"Yeah, I got sick during Herbology, but it wasn't a big deal or anything," she said.

"We heard about the skirmish with Flint, too," continued Fred casually.

"And we also happen to have informants who tell us that Flint has it out for you," said George. Madeline couldn't help it, but despite the twins' seriousness, she laughed.

"What, you two have spies?"

"We could tell you who they are," said Fred nonchalantly.

"But then we'd have to kill you," finished George.

"Look," Madeline said, trying to control her laughter, "I'm fine."

The Weasley twins, who were both leaning on the table across from her, fingers laced, glanced at each other and then back at Madeline.

"This is getting weird," said Ron, who mumbled something about "Hermione" and "the library" as he left.

"Finally! We've been trying to get him to bugger off for hours now," said Fred, who relaxed a little.

"But really, Madeline," continued George, "we can offer you protection. We have the most extensive spy network in the entire school—"

"I'll bet you do—"

"Except Dumbledore, of course—"

"Naturally," said Madeline, grinning, although she had no idea what George meant.

"And Wood wants us to keep an eye on you," said Fred.

Madeline narrowed her eyes, smile gone.

"What did he tell you?"

"He didn't have to tell us anything. Like we've said, we've informants—"

"_What did he tell you_?" she hissed, her eyes pinning them to their seats. They glanced at each other as if the conversation had taken a turn they weren't expecting.

"He just told us to 'keep an eye' on you. Really, Madeline, that's all he asked of us," replied George.

"We did the rest of the digging, and came up with some interesting information," Fred said, crossing his arms.

"Look," she said, glancing over at the Entrance Hall in time to see Nicolas walking their way, "we can discuss this later. Keep it quiet, will you? I'll come back to your Common Room with Percy after our meeting."

"_That_ won't be suspect. 'Hey, you weird, gingery Weasley twins with whom I rarely speak, let's go have a private conversation in the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room,'" said Fred, looking at her as though she were mad. "We can meet another—oy!" She made a playful swipe at Fred, but before he could retort, Nicolas was sitting next to her.

"I've done it," he said and kissed her. "I've just finished the Potions essay for tomorrow."

"You should've done it this weekend when you had time. Then you wouldn't be late to dinner," Madeline said.

Fred and George dismissed themselves to the Quidditch pitch, and Madeline waited for Nicolas to finish eating. At 7:45, Nicolas walked Madeline to Dumbledore's office from the Gryffindor Common Room, and a few minutes later, Percy came running down the corridor at them, a roll of parchment in tow. Nicolas left Madeline and Percy at the massive statue of a golden eagle, which was the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

The meeting went exactly as Madeline had expected it to go. Dumbledore merely asked them how their duties were going and if they were enjoying their appointment. When Percy presented his report, which Madeline found to be superfluous, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly. Toward the end of their meeting, Dumbledore asked to speak with each of them individually for a few moments.

"I can wait outside," Madeline said, volunteering Percy to have his private talk with Dumbledore first. She stood, nodded to them both, and walked down the spiral staircase. She sat against the wall across from the golden eagle and waited. Feeling impatient, Madeline released a massive sigh, one she seemed to have been holding in all day. Of course Oliver would have others help him look after her, and of course the twins would be up to the task. _I wonder what they found out about Flint…._

Though she worried about Oliver during Quidditch season more than any other time of the year, she was ready for it to begin so she could start flying as well. Suddenly came a groaning sound as the spiral staircase spun Percy down from Dumbledore's office. A moment later, the golden eagle jumped out of the way, and Percy appeared looking pleased.

"He said you may join him now," said Percy, puffing his chest out.

"Thanks," she said, moving past him and up the stairs.

Madeline hadn't been in Dumbledore's office many times, but every time she entered, she had a distinct feeling that she was being watched by someone other than the Headmaster. This left Madeline feeling uncomfortable in every meeting she ever had with Dumbledore, including this one.

"Miss Palmer," he said warmly. "Do take a seat. I won't keep you long."

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Thank you, again, for clearing your schedule to meet with me. I'm sure I'm not quite so interesting as those Weasley twins," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling again. Madeline's eyes widened a fraction before she regrouped. Of course. _Except Dumbledore_.

"It's no trouble at all, and I'm sure you're just as interesting, if not more so," she responded. Madeline felt she was neither brown-nosing nor lying.

"You're too kind. In fact, this is the very subject I was hoping to speak to you about," he began, his fingers laced together. Madeline eyebrows contracted. "Would you like to know why you were chosen as Head Girl?"

Madeline's eyes widened much more this time. Is this why Percy had looked so pleased with himself?

"I'm—I'm not sure that I do, professor. I mean, I'm sure I was curious as to why others weren't chosen over me, but I'd never really considered my own merit—"

Dumbledore raised his hand, indicating that she should let him speak.

"Allow me to say this, Miss Palmer. Others were not chosen because they lack certain qualities of character which I find to be vital in any Head Girl or Head Boy. You and Mr. Weasley, you may find, have much more in common than you may think."

Madeline nodded—_we're both oddballs in our house, for one_. She had discovered that last week.

"I've already begun realizing that," she said.

"I need you to be prepared to remain strong and wary in these next few months. I believe you capable of great strength, Miss Palmer, and I daresay that you will discover this soon enough."

There were a few moments of silence in which Madeline could hear all of the quirky noises that were a staple of Dumbledore's office: there were little whizzes, soft buzzes, and even, it seemed, light snores.

"Headmaster?"

"Hm?"

"None of my…" she didn't know how to phrase her statement, and her voice melted away. She felt strongly that she needed to ask Dumbledore this, that it was important. "None of my closest friends are Hufflepuffs. Is that… odd?"

"It is, perhaps, odd, Madeline," he said, smiling at her. Madeline's gaze flickered up to his at hearing Dumbledore use her name. "However, that does not mean you should be ashamed of who your friends are or, for that matter, who _you_ are."

Madeline couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw some regret behind his eyes. This was, however, much less important than the way his words had made her feel. She beamed at him, her smile grateful, and watched as he smiled in return.

"You are capable of a great many things and uniting people is one of them. This is another reason why," Dumbledore continued, pausing to consider his words carefully, "others were not chosen over you."

* * *

The next three weeks trickled by much like water dripping from a leaky faucet. Madeline spent a great deal of time doing homework, practicing nonverbal spells, and studying for her NEWTs. Dumbledore's words had given her more confidence than ever, and she started trying to use her power of "uniting" people to the best of her ability. Though she wasn't one hundred percent certain he was correct, she still felt better about her position. In late September, Quidditch tryouts came and went, and Madeline was named a Hufflepuff Chaser, much to her relief. Oliver, who was always willing to talk Quidditch with her at meal times again, was thrilled for her. Nicolas, however, was much less enthused.

"It means I won't see you as often," he said in a whining sort of voice. Madeline glared at him. He knew she was a busy woman!

"I'm sorry, but don't I see you in class, at meals, while doing homework, and on the weekends? And you _still_ want more of my time?"

This small squabble had left their relationship icy for a few days, but they couldn't stay mad at each other for long; a few days later, they were found snogging away in the back of the library by Lee Jordan, the twins, and Oliver.

"Look at them go at it," said Lee in a stunned voice.

"Oy!" said George, stepping closer to them, an amused look on his face.

"We could spray them down with water—that might get their attention," suggested Fred.

"Ooo, let's do that," said Lee, bouncing.

Oliver laughed, shook his head in disbelief, and said, "I don't think the Head Girl would appreciate it."

"Oh well," said Lee, shrugging. Fred, George, and Lee all took out their wands and pointed them at the couple, who were still going at it. Before they conjured the water, Nicolas had pinned Madeline to the wall, and their kissing became more urgent. Lee counted down from three and then they hosed the couple down.

Madeline tried to shriek, but to keep her from awakening the sleeping dragon that was Madame Pince, Lee had jinxed her into silence. Drenched and silently furious, Madeline pushed Nicolas away, grabbed her wand, dried herself and Nicolas and performed the counter curse nonverbally. She saw Nicolas grinning and Fred, George, and Lee trying to keep their laughter as quiet as possible. Madeline checked her notes and books to make sure they weren't wet before telling them off.

"Are you _mad_?" she said, seething. "Or did you just feel like having a laugh?"

"Aw, come on, Maddie, it was just a joke," said Nicolas, who tried to hold her waist. Madeline was blushing furiously at having been caught doing something so personal, especially in front of Oliver, who had never seen her so intimate with someone. She was even angrier that Nicolas hadn't taken her side _again_. She shook him off and began packing her bag, and none of them were laughing anymore.

"Sorry," said Lee Jordan. "You didn't hear us when we called you, so we just—"

"Don't worry about it," she huffed, her face red from embarrassment. "It's not a big deal. It was just a _joke_."

Before any of them could stop her, she was bolting out of the library, looking at none of them as she passed. Halfway to the Hufflepuff Common Room, Madeline heard footsteps and turned around to see who was following her. It was Nicolas, of course, but she didn't smile at him. Instead, she clenched her jaw, crossed her arms, and waited for him.

"What?" she said (rather harsher than she meant to) once he reached her.

"What was that?" he asked, referring to the incident in the library.

"Are you going to defend me? Ever? You saw that I was embarrassed, and yet you still wanted me to chuckle," she said.

"You're cross because I said it was a joke? Maddie, that's what it was!"

"I'm cross because when I'm upset I don't expect you to laugh it off!"

"Alright," Nicolas responded quickly, admitting defeat. "It won't happen again. I'm sorry."

"It's... it's fine," she said, sighing. She wrung her hands together. "No, really, it is. I'm just… I'm stressed a lot, and snogging helps relieve some of the tension, so I don't like being made a joke of."

"You're joking. You're using me to de-stress?" he asked incredulously.

Madeline grinned and playfully said, "That depends. Do you like being used, sir?"

And the pair found themselves pressed against another wall.

* * *

In no time at all, late October was upon them. With Quidditch added to her numerous other responsibilities, the time was passing by quicker than ever. Studying for NEWTs was becoming more difficult, as the professors were giving still more homework, but as Claire had put it, "At least we're still afloat."

Halloween evening was usually exciting simply because of the feast that accompanied the holiday, but this year the feast was overlooked by the prospect of a trip to Hogsmeade. Since her first year at Hogwarts, Madeline had always found the week before a Hogsmeade weekend to be quite interesting—this was when pairs became couples, couples became exes, and friendships were solidified. Such was the popularity of Hogsmeade that the Friday before Halloween, Madeline could not find anyone who was willing to talk about something else; every conversation she had eventually made its way to the topic of the little village. Madeline hadn't wanted to go, really, but when asked by Nicolas, who had looked more excited than she had seen him in weeks, Madeline couldn't refuse.

The trip to Hogsmeade only did Madeline the good of getting out of the castle and getting to drink some delicious butterbeer. Going to the Three Broomsticks was by far Madeline's favorite thing to do in Hogsmeade, and only for this did she give up a Saturday of study. Madeline smiled at Nicolas, who was having a conversation about the Tutshill Tornados with Claire, and Richard caught her eye. He didn't say anything; he merely nodded toward a corner of the pub. Madeline turned slightly and looked, but she wasn't glad she had. Pressed together and looking like they needed more privacy was Margaret Bradbury and Oliver. For a few moments, she couldn't look away. One of Oliver's large hands was tangled in Margaret's curly hair, the other holding her close to him. When Madeline met Richard's eyes, her eyebrows pulled together as if trying to be sewn and her jaw was slack with disbelief. Richard's lips twitched into a momentary frown and he gave her a slight shrug. Madeline looked again, a few moments later, only to see the pair being torn apart by a Roger Davies, who was looking incensed. This confused Madeline even further, and she and Richard exchanged an astonished glance. Soon Claire and Nicolas were interested, though at that point, Margaret was angrily pulling Oliver out into the chilly October wind. Davies kicked a table and then followed them out.

For the rest of the afternoon, Madeline felt a dull disconnect between herself and those around her. The perplexing situation with Margaret and Oliver was still confounding her, though she didn't know why. Her thoughts were raging like a wildfire as she sat in an armchair in her Common Room. She had told Nicolas that she wanted to change and warm up before the feast, but this had been a half-truths (she wasn't fond of lying). She did change and sit next to the fireplace, but she had really wanted to be alone for a while. Madeline didn't realise that she should have stayed in her dormitory, however, until it was too late. After perhaps five minutes alone with her thoughts, Cedric came and sat next to her.

"Hey, Madeline." Madeline looked up, but felt as though she hardly saw Cedric until he addressed her again. "You alright there, Head Girl?"

This pulled her out of her mind and into the present. It was still odd to hear people address her as the Head Girl, but Cedric said it in a playful manner that did not bother her.

"Oh, yes. I'm… well, I'm a little out of it, clearly," she said, shaking her head. She was being silly again. "Did you know that Margaret Bradbury dated Roger Davies?"

Cedric smiled, looking amused.

"Finally surfaced from the library, have you?"

"Does everyone know?" Madeline wanted to say something about Davies being a fifth year, but it then occurred to her that Cedric, too, was a fifth year, as were the Weasley twins.

"They broke up Monday, apparently. Cho Chang told me about it yesterday," he said, a small blush creeping up his neck.

"Cho Chang, eh? She's very pretty. The only girl on the Ravenclaw, team, too—"

"It's nothing," he said quickly, his blush deepening. "As a matter of interest, why were you curious?"

"Margaret and _Oliver_ were snogging like mad in the Three Broomsticks today. Davies busted in and looked like he wanted to tear Oliver's head off."

"Ah," said Cedric gently. He watched a group of fourth years leave the Common Room, and Madeline stared at the fire. "Does it bother you?"

"Does what bother me?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"Seeing Oliver snog someone," Cedric said, looking at her carefully.

Madeline felt as though her insides had been frozen. She stared at him.

"What? No, of course not!" she replied. "I was just worried about him and Davies getting into a fight. You know how Oliver is, easy to anger. He'll punch anyone who makes him angry enough."

Cedric laughed. "I don't think Oliver would hit anyone for Margaret Bradbury," he said to his hands.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said, standing. "Forget I said anything. Would you like to go to the feast with me?"

"Not meeting Cho Chang, are you?" said Madeline.

"No, I'm not," he said, all humor aside. "Let's go."

Madeline stood and followed Cedric out of their warm, low-ceilinged Common Room. Her thoughts were jumping to all sorts of conclusions that Madeline couldn't bear to dwell on, so she forced herself to start a conversation with Cedric. They talked about Gryffindor's chances of beating Slytherin in their upcoming match all the way to the Great Hall, which was decorated with hundreds of floating pumpkins filled with candles, orange streamers, and live bats.

"I'm just glad we'll see where Slytherin's strengths are before playing them," Cedric was saying. "I have a feeling they'll be all brutes again, but who knows?"

The two sat down at the end of the Hufflepuff table with Elaine, Peter, and Murray.

"Glad we didn't have practice today," said Peter to Cedric, pointing up at the ceiling. Madeline and Cedric looked up past the gently floating decorations to see a stormy sky and both murmured their assent.

Before the feast began, while students were still trickling into the Great Hall, Nicolas ran over to Madeline and kissed her. She heard Elaine say, "Aw."

Madeline laughed and said, "What was that for?"

"I'm just really happy," he said, grinning at her. His eyes were twinkling brightly, making Madeline feel uncomfortable about her lukewarm response.

"OK," she replied, not sure what to say. "I'm glad?"

"You're just so great," he said, leaning in for another kiss. Madeline stopped him before his lips could reach their destination.

"Not now, alright? Maybe later," she said, smiling at him. Nicolas walked off to the Gryffindor table nearly skipping. Once he was seated, she sighed as quietly as she could. "I've no idea what that was about."

Cedric seemed ready to tell her what it had been about, but that was when Dumbledore stood and announced the beginning of the feast. The food was just as delicious as it always was, and everyone was enjoying themselves immensely. Elaine and Peter bantered playfully about which animals they would become if they were Animagi, while Murray and Cedric were immersed in another conversation about Quidditch, as Murray had joined the Hufflepuff team as the other Beater. Madeline joined in occasionally but was more quiet than usual.

After desserts were finished, and after Nearly Headless Nick had done the same reenactment of his beheading he had done her fourth year, everyone made their way back to their Common Rooms. Cedric and Madeline were walking through to Entrance Hall when Claire called her name.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked. Richard wasn't anywhere to be found, and when Cedric realised this, he smiled and left the two girls alone.

"What is it?" Madeline asked. She and Claire moved to the side of the hall so as to not be run over; the sounds of hundreds of feet, laughter, and lots of talking caused Madeline to have to shout a bit. Claire held up her hand and waited until most of the crowd had passed.

"I wanted to see if you were alright," said Claire once the hall was quieter.

"Of course I am," she said, smiling at her friend.

"You're lying," said Claire, no smile to be found. "I know you're not alright. That's why I stopped you."

"_OK_," said Madeline, becoming frustrated. "What is it you want, then?"

"To know what's wrong, of course."

Madeline looked at Claire, who seemed resolute. The hall was empty now. After remaining stubbornly quiet for many minutes, Madeline's face and defenses finally fell. She remembered her own words to Professor Lupin before the start of term: _If you can't trust us, who can you trust?_

"I don't know," she said, sighing. "I'm just… frustrated. I didn't know that Margaret had been dating or had broken up with Davies. I guess I was shocked to see her with Oliver, too. And then Cedric said the weirdest thing—"

Before Madeline could say another word or Claire could question her, the Fat Friar flew into the Entrance Hall. He was flying quickly.

"Miss Palmer, Miss Denson," he said urgently. "You must get to the Hufflepuff Common Room _now!_ No questions. Just _go!_"

Madeline ran towards the basement where her Common Room was located, Claire following her closely. Without thinking, Madeline pulled her wand out of her cloak pocket. Once at the barrels in the nook near the kitchen, Madeline tapped her wand on a certain barrel and watched it open up. Claire was staring in disbelief, but crawled in after Madeline. Once in the Hufflepuff Common Room, the Fat Friar approached them again.

"What happened?" asked Madeline, still breathing heavily from running.

"The Fat Lady's been attacked," he said, his face shaded with fright.

"What do you mean the Fat Lady's been attacked? Wasn't a hippogriff, was it?"

Madeline shot Claire an irritated look. This wasn't the time for jokes.

"By who? Who would attack a portrait?"

"She's saying it was… well, she said it was _Sirius Black_!"

* * *

The next two hours were some of the most hectic Madeline had ever seen at Hogwarts. Madeline and the other Hufflepuff prefects had rounded up all of the Hufflepuffs so that they were ready to make the trip to the Great Hall, where Professor Sprout had informed they would be spending the evening. After all of the students had entered the Great Hall, Dumbledore had begun conducting a thorough search of the castle with the professors. Madeline and Percy were left in charge of the student body. All of the students were lying in purple sleeping bags Dumbledore had conjured, talking loudly about what had happened. Percy, who was of course prepared to rise to the occasion, immediately told everyone to go to sleep.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" he shouted, causing many students near them to jump. Madeline sighed. _Great way to start things, Perce—make everyone hate us._

"Percy, please. Let them get it out of their systems, otherwise they'll just be talking about all week—"

"Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!" shouted Percy. He turned to Madeline, checked the time on his watch, and said, "They're going to talk about it all week regardless. Dumbledore wants them asleep."

Madeline wanted to retort but thought better of it. He wasn't wrong, unfortunately. A few of the ghosts floated above them, talking quietly. Madeline sighed, looking around at all of the students, many of whom had grouped together by House. Nicolas approached her and told her that he had a sleeping bag next to him saved, but she shook her head.

"I don't know if I'll be getting to sleep tonight. You should try, though. Don't wait up for me," she replied, her face serious. Nicolas stepped right up to her, took her in his arms, and kissed her softly. He walked away smiling at her. Far from being comforted, Madeline became rather angry. Why did he have to keep kissing her in front of the entire bloody school?

"The lights are going out now! I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!" said Percy, shouting again. Madeline crossed her arms, hoping to look formidable, but she distinctly saw Malfoy roll his eyes. He was standing near a group of older Slytherins who had transfigured their sleeping bags to emerald green rather than Dumbledore's impartial purple, but he got into his sleeping bag when she gave him an expectant look. Percy then swiped his wand through the air and extinguished all of the candles.

Madeline knew that none of the students would fall asleep anytime soon, but she was only able to hold Percy off for a short period of time. Every hour or so, a professor would enter the Great Hall to check on the students, and at midnight, Percy began patrolling the groups and telling people off for not sleeping. Madeline, who had outright refused to tell people to go to sleep, took to walking around and shushing people. One group of fourth year Slytherin girls gave her an irritated look, but Madeline wasn't offended. She knew she would be giving someone else the same look had she not been Head Girl.

"Just keep it quiet, or he'll take points away from Slytherin. Pretend to sleep when he walks by."

This, Madeline found, was more effective than Percy's authoritarianism. The updates every hour weren't informative, and by two in the morning, Madeline found herself yawning and wishing she could sleep. The prefects had all gone to sleep already, as there wasn't anything for them to do. She was also immensely bored, but Percy was still patrolling. When Professor McGonagall came in at half past two, Madeline was relieved.

"Thank you both for your diligence, but you may sleep now, if you wish. Dumbledore is quite sure no one is in the castle," she said, her eyes tired but alert. "I'm remaining here, and we'll not be moving the students now. There is no more for you to do."

Madeline was thankful to be given an opportunity to rest before tomorrow's classes. McGonagall and Percy remained speaking to each other quietly, but Madeline walked away. She walked up near the staff table, where she knew Nicolas would be, but before she reached them, she saw Oliver a few feet away, looking up at her. She checked to make sure that Percy wasn't watching and made her way to him. She conjured her own sleeping bag, making it a midnight blue and squishier than the purple ones. She threw it next to Oliver's, straightened it out, and lied down on top of it.

"Everything alright?" he whispered as she stretched, her body thankful to be horizontal. Madeline felt relieved to hear Oliver's voice. He had been the only one she had wanted to talk to all evening.

"Yeah, they're wrapping up the search right now. McGonagall's here; she said I could sleep. Percy probably won't though—he thinks we're too important."

"Of course," said Oliver, smiling ever so slightly.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"Couldn't," he replied. She saw that he seemed tired, but didn't question him about it. After a few moments of looking at each other, their eyes reflecting the starry ceiling above, Oliver's hand gently touched her cheek. "Get some rest."

Madeline felt her eyes grow heavy, and before she knew it, she was asleep.

* * *

**Chapter 9: Tightening Security Pt. 2**

"Oliver, I need you to let go of me."


	9. Tightening Security 2

**Chapter 9: Tightening Security 2**

"He who dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose." - Anne Bronte

* * *

Three hours later, Madeline jumped awake as though someone had shouted. Her eyes fluttered open, and it took her a few moments to remember why she was lying on a sleeping bag in the Great Hall. The windows were letting in a faint blue light, and the sun hadn't yet risen. Madeline turned to roll over when she realised that, for some reason, her body felt trapped. She looked down to see a muscular arm draped over her. She had a feeling she knew what had happened, and Madeline's suspicion was confirmed when she turned her head to see Oliver's sleeping face lying next to her. Her eyes widened considerably, as she was fully aware that no one needed to see her in this position, whether it was Nicolas, Percy, or, Merlin forbid, a professor. She carefully began pulling her body away, because if she could avoid waking Oliver up, that would be ideal—he need never know this happened. For reasons unknown to Madeline, however, this plan did not work; at feeling her moving away, Oliver's arm tightened and pulled her close. She rolled her eyes and huffed; he was ridiculously strong. She would have to wake him up after all.

"Oliver?" she whispered. This had no effect whatsoever. Madeline sighed. He had been a heavy sleeper all his life, and Madeline should have remembered. She was in such close proximity, though, that he should hear her. "Oliver," she said, a bit louder this time, "I really need you to let go of me."

Oliver's eyes fluttered open, his face scrunching unhappily as he did so. Realisation sprang into his face after a few moments of staring blearily at Madeline. His reaction was more violent than hers had been, as he jumped away from her, but because his body was trapped in the sleeping bag, he didn't manage to move far. His hand flew from her waist with Quidditch-honed reflexes.

"Sorry," he muttered, looking drowsy but embarrassed. Madeline shrugged it off.

"Not to worry," she replied while she stood and stretched. "You might be able to get a few more hours of sleep if you want."

Rather than replying verbally, Oliver nodded and rolled over. Madeline looked around to see if anyone had seen, but the only students awake were Percy and Richard, who were standing near the double doors and talking to one another. She vanished her sleeping bag nonverbally, which pleased her, and made her way over to the entrance.

"Good morning," was her greeting.

"I'll say," said Percy, who looked dead on his feet.

"Perce, why didn't you sleep?" she asked. Madeline was more concerned than angry, but she didn't relish dealing with a grumpy Percy Weasley. He shook his head as though he couldn't imagine doing such a thing, but he didn't reply.

"Glad you're awake, Maddie," said Richard. He too looked as though he hadn't slept well. She wondered briefly if Percy and Richard had seen her lying next to Oliver, but she didn't have time to dwell on it.

"We'll need to wake the students up soon," said Percy. "So that we can place the House tables back in here for breakfast. McGonagall's just left. They can go back to their dormitories if they would like to continue sleeping, but they need to be up for class."

"Right," said Madeline, stifling a big yawn. "Right. I think we should wake up the prefects first and have them wake up their Housemates. So Richard, wake up the Ravenclaw prefects; Percy, you can take Gryffindor, and I'll wake Hufflepuff and Slytherin."

"Why must you wake the Slytherin prefects?" said Percy, who was looking rather more indignant than she felt capable of dealing with this early in the morning.

"Because, I'll not have any sleep-deprived Slytherins being shaken awake by a Gryffindor. Just leave it to me," she said, waving them off.

With that, they each began waking the prefects of their respective Houses. Madeline's Hufflepuff prefects were relatively easy to wake, and after three of them were walking around waking up their Housemates, Madeline made her way to the Slytherins. She decided to wake Temperance first, which had been a good decision, as having Temperance with her while waking the other Slytherins had given her more authority than she would have been able to command alone.

By six, the light coming through the windows in the hall was brighter, and the ceiling wasn't as starry anymore. Professor Flitwick entered the hall once most of the students had been awoken. He found Madeline gently waking a few first-year Hufflepuffs and pulled her aside.

"Miss Palmer, I'll need the students moved to the Entrance Hall before I conjure to House tables," he said in his usual squeaky voice.

"Yes, Professor," she said. "Shall I begin vanishing the sleeping bags?"

"Not to worry, Palmer," said Professor McGonagall briskly, walking into the Great Hall. She cast her sharp eyes around the hall to see that most students were already awake. There were a few heavy sleepers still snoozing on, despite the noise in the Great Hall having increased. Madeline, who had been looking around with Professor McGonagall, saw that a few minor arguments were breaking out as a result of sleep deprivation. McGonagall cleared her throat and prepared to speak. A few of the students close by heard her and turned towards the double doors.

"Students," she said clearly and loudly, "despite last night's events, you still have lessons to attend this morning. You may all return to your dormitories; I assure you they are all quite empty. Once you have all vacated the Great Hall and tables have returned, breakfast will be served."

Some students made good-natured groans, but McGonagall gave them a sharp, sweeping look and exited into the Entrance Hall. The students who had heard her began making their way to their dormitories, while Madeline, Percy, and the prefects stayed to wake the remaining students. Once they were all out, Percy and Madeline being the last, Professor Flitwick stepped in, vanished the sleeping bags, and conjured the House tables. They all ate breakfast afterwards, and Madeline asked Percy to clarify a few of the details of the attack for her.

"Well," he said, looking at her and Richard carefully, "the Fat Lady's story is that he demanded to be let into the Gryffindor Common Room, and she wouldn't let him, so he attacked her and ran off."

"How does one attack a portrait?" she asked, shaking her head.

"There were massive tear marks in her canvas," replied Percy.

"That's mad," said Richard. "Have they found someone to replace her?"

"Not sure," Percy said, his face screwed up. "I'm sure they have, but I don't know who."

* * *

Sirius Black's attempt to enter the Gryffindor Common Room was the only topic of discussion for the next few days, much to Madeline's chagrin. It was irritating to come back to her Common Room after an exhausting Quidditch practice to hear Hannah Abbott telling the other Hufflepuffs that Sirius Black could transform into a shrubbery. And now that Quidditch season was weighing down on them, Madeline was busier than ever. She and Oliver hadn't talked about what had happened that night in the Great Hall, and if Percy or Richard had seen it, they hadn't said anything. Oliver was so dedicated to his training schedule that Madeline usually only saw him during classes and at occasional meals, but she was so busy that she saw Claire, Nicolas, and Richard just as often.

During a stormy afternoon Hufflepuff practice few days before the Gryffindor/Slytherin match, for which Oliver had been frantically preparing his team, Cedric was called off the field by Madame Hooch. Once he returned to his team, he brought them into the changing rooms. They all filed in, drenched to their core, and sat down. Peter Stott began removing his gear when Cedric told him to stop.

"Practice isn't over," he said, his face grim. "I've just had some news."

"What is it, Cedric?" said Amy Anderson, who was a fifth-year Chaser. Amy was taller than Madeline and had deadly accuracy.

"Gryffindor won't be playing Slytherin on Saturday," he said, his voice shakier than usual. "Flint's told everyone that his Seeker, Draco Malfoy, is still injured and that they can't play."

"He's not still injured!" cried Murray Clute, their new Beater, immediately.

"Yesterday I saw the little prat flapping his arms madly, pretending to be a dementor at that Potter boy again," said Michael Purdy, their Keeper.

"What does this mean, Cedric?" asked Madeline.

"We'll be playing Gryffindor on Saturday in Slytherin's place," he said, his eyes closed. "So listen, I know we're not exactly prepared—"

"What do you mean, we're playing Gryffindor? Why isn't it Ravenclaw?"

"Yeah, Ced, can't we stop this?"

"I just don't understand—"

"LISTEN!" Cedric bellowed. There was a moment of silence when all that could be heard was the rain thrashing into the walls. "We're not as prepared for this as I'd like, but we're _more prepared_ than Gryffindor, alright? They've been working on opposing Slytherin, who plays very differently than we do, and our training hasn't been so specific. Our team is better than it was last year, as you're all brilliant. The weather is going to be foul, alright? I'll have an advantage over Potter, as he's rather small and could be knocked off course by the wind.

"And you two," he continued, looking at the burly Beaters Peter and Murray, "are bigger than the Weasley twins, meaning the same. Purdy, you should be fine as well. You and I will review the Gryffindor Chasers' favorite plays and ploys this evening."

Cedric then looked to Madeline, who was sitting next to Selena Hargrove, the third Chaser.

"The weather's not going to make your jobs any easier, either. But at least Gryffindor will give us a good, honest match. Let's review the Gryffindor team and discuss their tactics. Last year, they gave us a hell of a game, but I think we're better off this year."

That night, Madeline was doing an essay for Charms with Nicolas (she was struggling to understand the intricacies of the Fidelus Charm) when the Gryffindor Quidditch team entered their Common Room. They all looked as frustrated as she had been that afternoon, which means that Madame Hooch had told them about the change as well. Fred and George were looking more solemn than usual, and Angelina, Alicia, and Katie all trudged up to their rooms without saying a word. Harry Potter found Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger and told them the news. Hermione, who Madeline knew to be quite logical, was wearing a concerned expression. Ron and Harry were furious that Malfoy would do such a thing, but Madeline knew better. _They're Slytherins_, she thought, _they're_ supposed _to be cunning_. That was when Oliver came in through the portrait hole, his robes soaked and his demeanor more depressed than she had seen in a long time. He walked through the Common Room without looking up from his feet and made his way to his dormitory. Madeline's heart plummeted. She wanted to talk to him. She needed to talk to him.

"I need to talk to Oliver," she announced.

"What?" said Nicolas, who had been reading.

"He's really upset about this Slytherin business. I'm going to go talk to him," Madeline explained. She closed her book and stood, but Nicolas stood too.

"He's fine. You worry about him too much," he replied, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "He's a grown lad. He probably wants to be alone, anyway."

"I'm just going to make sure he's alright. It won't take long," she said, removing his arms from of her.

"No, you're not," said Nicolas quickly. Madeline's eyebrows shot up into her forehead.

"Excuse me?"

"You've... got to finish your essay," he said, albeit feebly.

"You don't want me to go up there, do you?" she asked, anger rising in her chest. "_Do you_?!"

"No, I don't! He doesn't need to be comforted! He's fine!" Nicolas said, nearly shouting. A few of the younger Gryffindors nearby looked at them uncomfortably.

"I'm going up there to check on my best friend," said Madeline, who was struggling to keep her voice even. "And if you trust me, if you have any faith in me at all, you'll not stop me."

"So that's what this comes down to? Faith and trust?" he asked.

"What are you—that's what _every_ relationship comes down to, you idiot! If you don't trust me, then we lost this battle a long time ago."

"Is that so?" he asked, his tone icy.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is," said Madeline, her words tight. Before he could stop her, Madeline made her way towards the boy's dormitories. She had been to Nicolas, Percy, and Oliver's room a few times, and she hadn't forgotten where it was.

Madeline was so absorbed in her thoughts about Nicolas that she burst into their dormitory without knocking, realising afterwards how stupid that had been. Oliver was sitting on his trunk, he hands covering his face, when Madeline walked in.

"Madeline? What are you doing in here?"

"I wanted to make sure you were alright," she said as she closed the door. She leaned against it as Oliver stood and massaged the back of his neck.

"I'm… yeah, I'm alright. Where's Nick?"

"Common Room," she replied. Madeline looked Oliver over. He looked as though he didn't have the energy to shower, so he used the_ Scourgify _charm and washed his face. He had changed into a t-shirt and those plaid sleep pants of his.

"He knows you're up here… alone with me?"

"It doesn't matter," she said with a wave of her hand. "I suppose you heard about the match."

At this, Oliver sat back down on his trunk, his head falling into his hands. Madeline sat next to him.

"We're completely unprepared for this, you know. I've been preparing them all for the match against Slytherin, and here we are—playing you in a few days' time," Oliver said, shaking his head. "It's not fair, Madeline, it's not. My team's not taking Hufflepuff seriously—"

"Gee, thanks."

At this, Oliver smiled slightly at her. She nudged him with her shoulder and he nudged her back.

"You know what I mean. I suppose Cedric's got a plan?"

"He's just as worried as you are, Oliver. Don't worry about us, really. If you play your game, we still don't stand a chance," she said, smiling sadly. "The only thing I'd worry about is Potter being thrown into the forest. Think you can put a weight vest on him?"

"I—I hadn't thought about that. That's a good idea. The only problem is I don't know where we'd get one by Saturday," he said. He groaned and ran his hands through his hair.

"Oliver, I was only joking. Potter's going to be fine. _You're_ going to be fine," she said, turning to face him. She put her hand on his bowed head and stroked it gently.

"I have to win," he croaked, his voice strangled and thick. Madeline suddenly stood and pulled him up with her. He didn't struggle against her. His face was lined with anguish.

"Oliver, look at me," she said firmly. He picked his head up and looked at her, and she gazed at him rather furiously.

"For as long as I can remember, you've been hard on yourself. No—you listen to me, Oliver Wood," she said. "You've been like this forever, and it's fine, it's wonderful, because that's who you are. You're competitive and you take Quidditch seriously, and that's what's going to get you to the World Cup someday.

"But you need to believe me when I say that your winning or losing the House Cup won't matter to the league teams, alright? They're looking for talent and work ethic—you could be the best Captain in the world, but if you're a rotten Keeper, it wouldn't matter! Are you hearing me? You're _not_ a rotten Keeper, no matter what the trophies say, alright?"

"But losing means that I've not done the best at my job," he said.

"Oliver," she said, shaking her head, "Puddlemere is going take you no matter what! You've not been training your entire life for nothing!"

"Madeline… I just— " Oliver's voice broke, and Madeline suddenly threw her arms around his neck. It pained her to see him so upset, and she felt herself nearly moved to tears. This time, Oliver was the one who broke their embrace, but he didn't move far from her.

"You shouldn't be up here," he said, frowning. His hands held her arms. "I don't need Nick getting angry at me right now. You should leave."

"He could have come up here with me. I didn't say he couldn't—"

"Did you have another row?"

Madeline stared at Oliver with a mingling look of guilt and anger. She crossed her arms and huffed.

"He told me I _couldn't_ come check on you, so yeah, we had a row," she responded.

"I wish you wouldn't," he said, his voice nearing a whisper.

"Wish I wouldn't what, Oliver? Check on you? I knew you'd be upset! Or is it that you don't want me around as often?"

"Of course not! I just wish you wouldn't fight with him," he replied. "He really cares about you, and you two are either fighting or snogging, and it can't be healthy."

"I'm not sure… that we'll be snogging again anytime soon," she said, sighing.

"What—you didn't break up, did you?"

"No, I don't really think so. But I'm not apologising. He's being stupid about all of this, honestly," Madeline replied. She went on to give Oliver a recap of their "argument."

"Madeline," he said, his tone chastising, "Why did you say that?"

"Because it's true—if he doesn't trust me, what use is there in hiding it? If he doesn't trust me, he'll never move past the fact that another man is my best friend. It's fairly simple."

Oliver glanced at Madeline, his maple eyes unreadable, and then took to examining his hands. She couldn't tell whether he was angry at her or if he didn't know how to respond, but either way, he said nothing.

"Do you disagree?" Madeline asked after a few moments of silence.

"No, I can't argue with that," he replied quietly. A yawn escaped his lips and there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," said Oliver. Madeline rubbed her eyes as Nicolas walked in.

"It's getting late," said Nicolas, his voice still cool.

Madeline stood, crossed her arms, and stared at him.

"Are you asking me to leave?"

"Nick's right," said Oliver before Nicolas could reply. "You should probably be getting to the Hufflepuff Common Room soon, or the professors will have a fit."

Madeline rounded on Oliver. Why was she feeling so betrayed?

"Fine. _Fine._ I'll just leave then," she said, giving Oliver a hurt look and not meeting Nicolas' eyes as she passed. He caught her arm, but she shook him off and kept walking. She stormed her way through the passageway without anyone stopping her. There were only a few students left in the Gryffindor Common Room when she entered, and she was through the portrait hole when Nicolas caught up with her.

Madeline neither spoke nor acknowledged his presence; she simply continued walking down the corridor.

"Maddie," he said, and she finally stopped.

"Don't call me that," she hissed, her hazel eyes burning.

"Oh, so I can't call you that now? And might I know why?"

"Because only those who _trust me_ may call me by that name!" Madeline replied. She turned and began walking again. He seemed dumbfounded for a moment, but he caught up with her a few moments later.

"I do trust you, Madeline, I do. We need to talk, though. We need to talk about Oliver."

* * *

**Chapter 10: Demented Luck**

"Cedric, what's on your mind?"

"Well, it's just…. Earlier today I heard a rumor about you."

"About me? Merlin! Well, spit it out, what are people saying?"


	10. Demented Luck

**Chapter 10: Demented Luck**

This chapter had a mind of its own. Quick recap:

"We need to talk about Oliver."

* * *

"Why?" Madeline demanded. "Why must we talk about him? You're acting like I'm in love with him when all I really want is for us to stop fighting! You're the one I'm dating!"

"You want us to stop fighting?" he asked, his face betraying no emotion.

"Yes," said Madeline, sighing in exasperation.

"Then we need to discuss boundaries."

"Pardon? Did the word 'boundaries' just come out of your mouth?"

"Madeline—"

"No, I'm sick of this! Just tell me what you want, and I'll tell you whether or not you're wasting your time," she said. Nicolas' arms were crossed as if he was squaring off for battle.

"Oh, I'm wasting my time, am I? All I want is for you to care about me just as much as you care about Oliver. What's difficult about that?"

"I do care about you, Nick," she replied. "But if you're fine, and my friends are not, you can't expect me to put you first."

"Oliver _is_ fine," he insisted once again. "And you always put him first, whether you realise it or not."

"Really? Did you even talk to him? He's not alright, Nick, and you know it," she said, choosing to ignore the second half of his statement.

"He's always going to be upset about Quidditch, Madeline. You of all people should know that!"

"Oliver's being regularly upset makes it alright for us to ignore it. That's what I just heard you say," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"That's not what I said!"

"That's sure as hell how it sounded!"

Nicolas didn't reply. He stared at her like he had already lost her.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked again. Nicolas shook his head.

"I don't know if that's the question we need to be asking."

"Alright," she said, pursing her lips. "And the question is…"

"Do you still want to be with me?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

Madeline's eyebrows pinched together as she considered his question. They had been fighting more than usual lately, and there was no promise that it would improve. As NEWTs grew closer, she would only grow busier and more stressed. What she had to consider was his ability to keep her calm and stress-free—was the snogging worth the trouble? Was she really just using him? A heaviness that felt a lot like guilt settled in her chest, and she took a seat against the corridor wall. Nicolas sat down next to her.

"Allow me to interpret your silence as a 'no.'"

"Richard told me that you've liked me for a long time," Madeline said. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah," he said.

"How long?"

"I've liked you since fourth year when we ended up at Hogsmeade alone together because Claire and Richard ran away to snog in secret."

Madeline laughed; she had forgotten about that. She and Nicolas had been abandoned by their friends and left alone together in the Three Broomsticks, where they talked about their future goals, about life after Hogwarts. Nicolas smiled sadly at her.

"Seems like such a long time ago doesn't it?" she asked as she ran her hands over her legs.

"Aye, it does. Madeline… I need you to answer my question."

"I don't know what I want," she replied. "I don't. I think it's sad that we've been doing nothing but fighting and making up over the past month. I think you're one of the best guys I've ever met; and, above all, it upsets me to know that you don't trust me when neither Oliver nor I would ever do anything to hurt you."

"It's not that I think you'd cheat on me," he said.

"Then what is it?" said Madeline, turning to look at him. "Oliver supports our relationship. Everyone thinks we should be together."

"Not everyone," he replied. "But it doesn't matter what everyone else thinks. What do you think?"

"I've just told you."

"Are you in love with me, Maddie?"

At this, Madeline stared at him, a bit horrified. The most unfair question any person could ask another person. His bright blue eyes looked darker than usual in the damp, dim corridor.

"You can't ask me that," she said.

"I can't? Really, now that's interesting. And why can't I?"

"Because we've not been dating very long, so that's completely unfair. Love comes in its own time," she said, not really knowing what she meant.

"You're right," he said, nodding. Nicolas stood, helped her up, and smiled at her. "Love comes in its own time, or not at all. Let's get you to that badger hole of yours."

They walked back to the Hufflepuff Common Room silently. Madeline was at a loss for words—did he think she would never fall in love with him? She was sure she could; after all, falling in love couldn't be hard. _Yeah, like I would know._ Once at the barrels, Nicolas kissed Madeline's forehead.

"What's going to happen now?" Madeline asked.

"Well, we can break it off and try to go back to being friends, or we can keep trying to make this work, or we can take a break. It's up to you, honestly."

Madeline sighed. Those were their only options?

"I'm going to sleep on it," she replied. "Let you know tomorrow?"

Nicolas nodded, pressed his lips to hers, perhaps for the last time, and left her standing at the barrels down in the basement. She entered her Common Room with a few taps of her wand, went to her dormitory, and fell asleep almost straight away.

The next morning came too soon. The day dawned dark and stormy, and Madeline awoke with a headache and dull sense of dread. She got dressed and made her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast with Elaine. Neither of them spoke as they sat and began eating. Madeline wasn't looking forward to having to sit through her lessons with this headache. While eating her apple scone, Madeline looked up to the double doors to see Nicolas walking her way, and then she remembered their conversation the night before. Dread prickled her skin.

"Hey," he said, sitting next to her. Elaine glanced up but said nothing.

"Hi," Madeline replied. _I really don't feel like talking about this. _

"Feeling alright?" Nicolas asked, placing a hand on her back. Madeline shook her head slightly and groaned at the effort. She rubbed her forehead in the hope that her headache would dissipate.

"Not sleep well?" he continued. Madeline wished he would stop talking. She didn't reply. "Alright, well, I'll see you in class."

After he walked away, Madeline groaned again and placed her head on the table as gently as possible.

"I thought he'd never shut up," whispered Elaine. She didn't understand why they both had headaches—usually they slept well during thunderstorms. The morning post was more annoying than usual, and Madeline was ready to hex a screech owl who was tooting happily at the Ravenclaw table.

In her classes, Madeline volunteered information less than usual, allowing Percy and Claire the pleasure, but even Claire's voice grated on her nerves. During Potions, in which Madeline made worse marks than usual, Flint had been so infuriating that Madeline thought her head might actually explode. After turning her potion before everyone else (and by rushing it, she hadn't quite achieved the aubergine color Snape had been looking for), Madeline explained that she wasn't feeling well and asked to go to the Hospital Wing.

"Fine," Snape snapped. "Don't rush your potion next time, Palmer."

Madeline gave him a nod, grabbed her bag, and left the dungeons. Madame Pomfrey wasn't thrilled to see Madeline again.

"Back again, are you?"

"I just have a horrible headache. A potion will do," Madeline replied.

"No, I don't think so. Go lie down, Palmer," said Madame Pomfrey.

"Madame Pomfrey…"

"Do you have any more lessons today?"

"Well—"

"Go lie down, Palmer," she said.

Madeline spent the better part of the afternoon asleep in the Hospital Wing. At one point she thought she heard Madame Pomfrey shooing students away, but Madeline had taken the Dreamless Sleep Draught so she wasn't conscious for long. Madame Pomfrey woke her in time for dinner.

"How are you feeling?" she asked when Madeline sat up.

"Much better," she said, smiling. "Thank you."

"Be sure to come back if you feel worse tomorrow," Madame Pomfrey said.

"I will. Thanks again," said Madeline, who walked down to the Great Hall for dinner. Once there, Madeline decided to sit with her House, as it was the night before Hufflepuff's sudden match against Gryffindor. She took a seat next to Cedric, who was sitting alone.

"Why so blue, Captain?" she said as she sat.

"I heard you got sick again. Feeling alright?"

"I didn't get sick, but I did go to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey sorted out my headache, and I'll be in tip-top shape for the match tomorrow. Don't you go worrying that handsome head of yours."

Cedric laughed, and Madeline, although smiling, pinched her eyebrows together.

"What's so funny?"

"You don't really think I'm handsome," he said simply. Madeline had been loading her plate with food when she stopped and looked at him.

"I wasn't joking," she said. "Ced, you're the toast of every fifth year girl's eyes!"

"The 'toast'?" he asked with a laugh. Madeline added more food to her plate.

"Yes, yes. They all think you're handsome and perfect. In fact, there are two fourth year Gryffindors looking at you right now—"

"But I'm not perfect," Cedric replied. He didn't look to the Gryffindor table.

"No one is, but you are handsome."

"Only to fifth years," he said. Madeline scoffed and began looking for something in her robes.

"Oh, where did I put it? I know I left it somewhere… yes! _Voila_! You see this, Captain? This is my Head Girl badge. It proves quite clearly that I am no fifth year."

Madeline began eating when Cedric neglected to respond. After a few minutes and a swig of pumpkin juice, Cedric cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.

"Madeline, may I ask you something?"

"Sure, Captain," Madeline said with a smirk.

"Stop it with Captain stuff," he said, grinning sheepishly.

"Cedric, what's on your mind?"

"Well, it's just…. Earlier today I heard a rumor about you."

"About me? Merlin! Well, spit it out, what are people saying about me?"

"Maddie! Hey, can we talk?"

At this, Madeline looked up to see Nicolas standing near her. Madeline frowned.

"Er—sure," she said, looking at her half-eaten dinner. Her stomach rumbled.

"I'll wait for you," said Cedric, nodding at her. Madeline smiled, thanked him, and followed Nicolas into the Entrance Hall. They walked away from the grand staircase and closer to a small broom closet before he spoke.

"Have you made your decision?"

"Well…."

"Because I… I think I've made mine. You're great, Madeline, really, but I don't think you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you. Does that make sense?"

Madeline felt anger creeping up her spine, but she did her best to ignore it.

"Nick, I think you're exaggerating—"

"Is it exaggerating to say that I've done nothing but irritate, annoy, bother, and snog you since September?"

"Well, quite frankly, yes," said Madeline, who was stunned. "You've made me laugh, you've helped me study, you've made me feel better about myself, and you've been supportive of me. I couldn't ask for anything more from you."

"Your standards are shockingly low," said Nicolas.

"The number of boys I've dated is shockingly low, Nick. What d'you want me to do about it?"

"Madeline, I'm breaking up with you," he said, his voice clear and even.

"Nicolas, I think you're being stupid," she replied in the same clipped tone.

"I'm breaking up with you for your own damn good!" he continued, his voice angrier.

"You're breaking up with me _for_ me? How the bloody hell does that even _work_?"

"Well, you clearly weren't ever going to get on with it, so I figured I'd save you the trouble—"

"What trouble?!"

"You need to find out what you want, Maddie. It's sure as hell not me! You haven't fought for us once! You'd choose your friends, your duties, your lessons, and your House over me any day of the week, and to be quite honest, I'm sick of it."

Madeline stared at him, her mouth hinged open in shock.

"Do you deny it?" Nicolas asked.

"No, I don't. I don't deny my loyalty to my friends and my House, nor do I deny that I've been putting my education before you. I'm sorry, but that's… me. I thought you knew."

"I suppose I didn't," he said, his voice blank again.

"I'm sorry it came to this."

Nicolas didn't say another word; instead, he turned around and made his way up the grand staircase. Madeline stood in stunned silence for a few moments, tears welling up in her eyes. _Great. Fucking great. _She wiped away the tears and walked back into the Great Hall to finish her dinner. She wouldn't let the idiot ruin her night-before-the-match meal.

"Madeline…." said Cedric as she took the seat next to him.

But she held up her hand, indicating that she didn't want to talk about it. She wanted to finish eating first. Before long she was finishing off a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"After tomorrow, perhaps. We can talk about anything you want after tomorrow. For now, I need to go to sleep and prepare myself to beat those stupid Gryffindors."

* * *

Madeline awoke to the monstrous sound of distant thunder. Checking her bedside clock, she saw that it was a few minutes after 5 am. It was days like these for which Madeline was thankful she lived in the basement of Hogwarts rather than up in one of those towers, where the storm would be closer and louder. She rolled over and tried to go back to sleep but to no avail, so she got dressed and went to her Common Room. She would wait for her team there—except most of them were already there. The only person missing was Cedric.

"Hey, mates," she said as she walked in. "Sleep well?"

"Nah, not really," said Murray. This would be his first official match, and he was bouncing his leg impatiently. Peter Stott and Selena Hargrove were both yawning, and Amy Anderson shrugged. Michael Purdy, however, looked wide awake.

"I wonder if we even stand a chance," said Selena. "Susan Bones was telling me yesterday that Gryffindor's really good this year."

At this, they all turned to look at Madeline.

_Why're they all looking at me? Oh, yeah, that's right. Oliver's my best mate, and I _was_ dating a Gryffindor up until last night. I guess I better tell them what I know, even though I've already told Cedric._

"Gryffindor was caught off guard, _very _caught off guard. I think we have a good chance," Madeline said. "It'll most likely come down to Cedric, as I think we're an equal match for any of the other Gryffindor players. Their only advantage, other than Potter, is that they've been playing with each other longer than we have."

"Do you think Cedric's as good as Potter?" said Amy quietly. Madeline paused to consider this and found herself frowning.

"It's… it's a toss-up, really it is. Potter's got this bad-luck thing going despite all his natural talent, and Cedric's worked so hard to be a good Seeker…. I just don't know."

"Potter's record is definitely better," said Peter. "He hasn't lost a match."

"But that doesn't mean anything. The weather could seriously throw him off his game," said Michael Purdy.

"I think it's going to throw us all off our game," said Madeline, who was frowning and looking up to the Common Room's fake windows.

After breakfast together, the Hufflepuff team made their way to the Quidditch pitch. They ran through the howling wind and torrential rain, all becoming soaked from the trip from the castle. Cedric was looking tired but optimistic, while the rest of the team seemed to be dreading the next few hours. Madeline was torn—as much as she loved Quidditch, these conditions weren't ideal.

None of her teammates said much while they waited for the game to begin. Madeline looked down at her Quidditch robes. She wasn't fond of canary-yellow, which contrasted oddly with her skin tone, but she was thankful for them for a match in such weather—she would be able to see her fellow Chasers better than the scarlet-clad Gryffindor Chasers. Before a typical Quidditch match, Madeline would have been able to hear the footsteps of hundreds of students working their way to their seats, but because of the thunder and thrashing rain, they couldn't hear anything else. Despite the storm, Madeline knew the entire school would be out to watch the match.

Walking out onto the field was considerably more difficult than usual due to the gusts of wind and rain. Madeline watched as Oliver and Cedric shook hands; Cedric smiled, but Oliver's jaw was set and she knew that he was in game mode. When she met Oliver's eyes, he nodded at her, and she smiled. Only moments later, Madame Hooch was blowing her whistle, and the match began.

Alicia Spinnet was first to the Quaffle, and Madeline raced off after her. No matter what she had told her team, she knew that Oliver was twice as talented as Michael Purdy, so it was her intention to try to help Michael the best she could. She, Amy, and Selena would all be attempting to mark a Gryffindor Chaser, and Madeline's mark was Alicia because they were the fastest. Amy would be covering Angelina because of their height, and Selena was to mark Katie Bell. Madeline sped off, flanking Alicia closely, but not so closely as to make her think that she could keep up with her. It felt as though the rain was hitting her at all sides, but she kept her eyes squinted while she raced after Alicia. Before she could reach Hufflepuff's goal posts, Madeline sharply cut her off, catching her off guard and making her change direction to avoid the collision. A Bludger flew towards Alicia, and while trying to avoid being hit, the Quaffle slipped between her slippery arms. Though she could barely see it, Madeline caught the Quaffle before Angelina Johnson could and sped down towards the Gryffindors, where Oliver would be waiting.

Such was the intensity of the storm that Madeline could see only what came near her. Madeline felt a rush of adrenaline—she knew she could beat Oliver, and she knew that Cedric and the rest of her House were depending on her to do so. She couldn't see the Bludger coming at her until it nearly took her head off, but she swerved sharp left just in time. After dodging what looked to be a Weasley twin, Madeline neared the hoops, Alicia on her tail.

Oliver, who was staring feebly into the storm, saw only a blur of yellow—it wasn't until Madeline faked him to the left and made a successful shot to the right that he recognized her. Madeline thought she heard the Hufflepuffs cheering at the announcement of the first goal of the game, but a fresh roll of thunder drowned out all other noise.

The conditions of the match did not improve throughout the game, and Madeline was sure they were worsening. Before long, Madame Hooch was calling everyone down to ground, and Madeline spun around wildly—had Potter caught the Snitch? When she saw that everyone else was flying down too, Madeline joined them. She was pleased to hear Oliver had called for a time-out. Everyone was drenched, and Cedric especially looked rather shaken.

"What's the score?" asked Selena in a loud, strained voice. "I lost count a long time ago…."

"Gryffindor's up fifty points," Michael Purdy replied and Amy balked. "I'm doing my best, I am, but I can't see anything in this weather."

"Just keep it up! Selena, you _have_ to stay on Katie Bell—" began Madeline.

"I keep losing her! The brat's doing it on purpose—"

"Stop!" said Cedric as he tried to speak to them over the thunder. "Michael, watch for the red players! Murray, Peter—start taking aim at Katie Bell if you can."

"Cedric, you can do it!" said Madeline as they all took off again on Madam Hooch's whistle. Cedric gave her a quick grin before taking off. Madeline sped off towards Angelina Johnson, who was flying near Alicia Spinnet. Before they could make much of their lead, a Bludger nearly hit Angelina, who dropped the Quaffle. Amy was on her mark and caught it, and they took off towards Oliver when an eerie silence fell over the stadium. Madeline began looking around the best she could through the rain and saw Cedric speeding towards the Hufflepuff end of the pitch, Potter on his tail. She stopped to watch as a wave of cold air hit her like a Bludger. Madeline flew a bit closer to the center of the pitch, her eyes wide with horror.

Dementors. There were hundreds of Dementors, and most of them were flying near Harry Potter.

* * *

**Chapter 11: Season of No Rest**

"Cedric, that's sweet, really. But I don't know-"


	11. Season of No Rest

**Chapter 11: Season of No Rest**

The last chapter got away from me a bit because Nick was being a brat, so I offer a mild apology for his behavior. ;)

* * *

_Dementors._

Madeline didn't have time to react—the dementors were swarming near Potter, and Cedric was lost in the storm. Madeline wiped some water off her face and watched, horrified, as Potter seemed to lose consciousness. Madeline flew towards him, hoping he was alright, and that's when it happened—Potter fell off his broom. He fell towards the dementors, but Madeline couldn't move for fear—could she fly through the dementors to save him? Shouldn't she try? It took a few seconds for her to decide, and then she sped off towards the dementors, feeling colder and wetter than ever. Their power didn't sway her, for she flew through them too quickly, but she was too late—Potter was already down. When she reached the ground, she felt herself growing weak, and she stumbled into the mud. There was a dementor directly above her, but before it could draw its rattling breath, all of the dementors were being warded off by a massive, swooping, bird-like Patronus. She then saw Dumbledore, who looked angrier than she could ever recall him being, walking swiftly across the pitch. Madeline felt a painful heaviness settle in her chest as she ran towards Potter and collapsed at his side. Her hands were shaking.

"Potter!" she shouted, shaking him gently. "Potter!"

When he didn't respond, Madeline took Potter's arm, pushed his soaking robes back, and felt for his pulse. He was _alive_. She felt a hand on her shoulder and spun around to see who it was. Dumbledore was standing over her, his robes soaked and muddy as well.

"He's alright?"

"Yes, professor, he's al-ive!" Madeline replied, her voice breaking at the effort of being heard over the rain.

"The match is over! Hufflepuff wins!" said Lee Jordan, his uncertain voice reverberating loudly over the pitch. Though Madeline registered a wave of shock, concern was rippling through her like a heavy current. Dumbledore then conjured a stretcher and levitated Potter onto it. He was alive, but by how much?

"Miss Palmer, please see to it that the rest of the students make their way to the castle safely. The professors will help you," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes dark. "Have you ever conjured a Patronus?"

"N-no," said Madeline, who was shivering and scared. Dumbledore's furious gaze softened at her response. He nodded and marched off the pitch with Potter floating before him on the stretcher, while her teammates and the Gryffindor players began landing near her. Madeline felt a few tears leak out of the corner of her eyes, but they mingled with the pouring rain and were lost. She turned to face them, and her eyes landed on the twins, who looked as though they had lost a brother.

"Is Harry alright?" said Angelina, whose voice shook.

"He's alive, but he's with Dumbledore, so I wouldn't worry," said Madeline. "We need to get everyone up to the castle immediately! The dementors may come back! Come on!"

Madeline began motioning for the Quidditch players to make their way to the castle. They followed her as she ran off the pitch; once they made it to the edge of the stadium where students were exiting the stands, Madeline stood back and kept motioning students towards the castle. Instead of walking up to the castle with the rest of the team, Cedric walked over to her, the Snitch still clasped in his glove.

"You're not staying out here alone, are you?"

"No, the professors will help me get the students in the castle," she replied, her arm up to shield her eyes from the heavy rain.

"I can stay with you," he said, bowing his head towards her, his face squinting from a sudden gust of wind.

"Cedric, that's sweet, really. But I don't know—"

"You shouldn't be out here alone—"

"There are students everywhere. I'm not even remotely alone. Go celebrate!"

Cedric grimaced and shook his head. Madeline knew this was not the way Cedric had hoped to win their match.

"I'll go tell Wood we'll schedule a rematch in better conditions," Cedric said, nodding. He turned and ran off towards the castle.

Madeline was soon joined by Professors McGonagall and Lupin, and together they all helped the students make their way safely to the castle. Other professors were stationed near the castle to ensure that no one wandered away. During their walk back, a flustered-looking Hermione Granger ran down to them from the castle.

"Professor," she exclaimed, looking wildly at McGonagall, "Harry's broom—I think it might've flown into the Whomping Willow!"

"No! Miss Granger, let's go see if we can salvage it!" replied McGonagall. "Lupin—"

"I'll go with Miss Palmer. Be careful," he said, nodding at them.

Madeline and Professor Lupin made their way into the castle. Once in the Entrance Hall, Madeline told him that she wouldn't be going to her Common Room. It was nice not to have to strain to hear or be heard.

"But why the Gryffindor Common Room? Shouldn't you be celebrating with your Housemates?" Lupin asked.

"Some things are more important than House pride, Professor. Surely you understand," she said, giving him a shrewd look

"Indeed, I do," he said, sighing. "I'll walk with you. No student should be alone in this castle at a time like this. I'll daresay you and your prefects will need to be performing rounds more frequently."

"I think you're right. Professor Lupin, Dumbledore asked me if I've ever performed a Patronus. Is that something I should know how to do?"

"Technically speaking, no. It's neither taught at Hogwarts nor is it set in the NEWTs, as it is well beyond the average seventh year's abilities. That's not to say that you can't learn, however. In Hogwart's current state, it wouldn't be foolish to try."

"How difficult is it? Richard has produced a Patronus with no form."

"It takes more concentration than many students are used to applying to their magic. Even those talented in Transfiguration, such as yourself, might find themselves struggling with this particular charm," Lupin explained.

"You don't think I can do it?"

"I think you can anything you wish, especially if you continue to work hard," he said, smiling sadly. "Some are not so fortunate."

This thought left Madeline speechless, and they walked up many flights of stairs until they reached the Gryffindor Common Room. Madeline was thankful that Professor Lupin had decided to walk with her, as she did not know the password for the new portrait. It was of a clumsy knight who kept shouting, "Ye cowards! Ye scabbards! Draw!"

"Peony," said Professor Lupin.

"I most certainly am not!" cried the knight.

"That's the password. Please let us enter," replied Professor Lupin, his voice still mild.

"Right-o! Enter wee mongrol!" said the knight, who swung the portrait open.

"Take care," said Lupin with a gentle smile. Madeline returned the smile and turned to enter through the portrait hole. The portrait closed with her half-way through the small passageway, and Madeline stopped. Surely the Gryffindors wouldn't be angry with her for visiting? Madeline looked down at her bright yellow Hufflepuff Quidditch robes and sighed. She'd just have to ignore them, if it came to that. She needed to see Oliver.

Once in the Gryffindor Common Room, which was always blazing red and gold, Madeline looked around for Oliver, but he wasn't there. In fact, there weren't many students in their Common Room at all. Percy was sitting at one of the tables writing, so Madeline approached him.

"Hello, Percy. Doing alright?"

"Yes, I—Madeline, what are you doing up here?"

"Is Oliver in your dormitory?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"No, I believe he and many others went to the showers. Everyone was covered in mud and muck—"

"You didn't go to the game, did you?"

"In that weather? No, but I've heard we lost. Fred made a joke about Oliver drowning himself—"

"What?!"

"It was only a joke, you know how those brothers of mine are," said Percy coolly.

"Did you hear about what else happened?"

"I heard something about Harry being in the Hospital Wing, but that's hardly a shock. He ends up there every year, doesn't he?"

Madeline then launched into the story about what happened at the match. Percy's face turned as white as a sheet, even his freckles seemed to pale.

"I—I should have been out there. I should've—"

"Everything's alright, Percy," said Madeline, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm a failure, really, I can't believe I didn't go to the match—Dumbledore must be so disappointed in me. Perhaps I should go speak with him."

"Percy, stop. There's nothing to be done. Dumbledore has enough to worry about without you groveling for his forgiveness. He's not disappointed in you; he's furious at the dementors for attacking a student."

"I must apologise. It's only right," said Percy, looking offended.

"It'd be a waste of your time and his," said Madeline.

"Where are you going?" he asked, and Madeline stiffened.

"I'm going to lie down on that empty couch, if that's alright with you," Madeline said.

Though she didn't like getting angry with Percy, she certainly wasn't in the right frame of mind to put up with his appeasing tendencies. Before she sat down, she performed the _Scourgify_ charm and a drying charm to clean her robes. There were a few students sitting around talking with one another, a fire was going strong in the grate, and the rain was thrashing into the Gryffindor Tower, leaving Madeline feeling drowsy. Her body was exhausted and her mind must have been as well, because a few moments after laying her head against one of the cushions, Madeline fell asleep.

It seemed like only minutes later when Madeline was being shaken awake. Her eyes opened blearily to see Nicolas, who looked as though he had come from the showers. She rubbed her eyes and sat up.

"Tired?" he asked. Nicolas sat next to her, and Madeline nodded. "Are you waiting for Oliver?"

"Yeah," she said. She blinked her eyes a few times before they felt right.

"He won't leave the prefect's bathroom," said Nicolas. He ran a hand through his wet hair. "I tried talking to him, but he just… sat there."

Madeline sighed, knowing that Oliver would sit there all night and beat himself up over circumstances that were completely out of his control.

"Did he say anything? Anything at all?"

"No," said Nicolas. "I kept telling him that it wasn't his fault, but you know him, he doesn't listen."

Madeline stood and massaged her forehead for a moment while considering her options.

"I guess I'll have to go see him. Will you walk with me?" Though Madeline could have walked alone, she was still wary of Malfoy's warning. She would, however, walk there by herself if she needed to.

"What? You're not going in there while—"

"You'd let Oliver sit there all night?"

"He'll come 'round, Madeline. He always does—"

"You're impossible! Oliver's your best friend, and you don't give a damn whether or not he's alright," said Madeline, her nostrils flaring. She clenched her fists, though she knew she wouldn't strike Nicolas.

"I do give a damn! I tried talking to him!"

"A lot of good that did, right? He's still sitting there! And while we're standing here arguing, he's probably considering drowning himself! I'm going down there with or without you."

Nicolas stared at Madeline for a moment; he stared at her as though he couldn't quite see her. Madeline was standing when he spoke.

"You're serious?"

"Am I ever not serious?"

"Fair point. Let's go," he said. Nicolas sighed and led her out of the Gryffindor Common Room, where a few second years happily took their place on the couch.

They did not speak to one another on the trip to the prefect's bathroom. Nicolas considered asking her about the match but sensed that she wouldn't want to talk about it, and Madeline couldn't think of anything to say. They soon reached the statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor and walked to the fourth door to its left, but Madeline didn't give the password.

"Will you go make sure it's empty or that everyone's decent?" she said to Nicolas as casually as she could. He gave her a quirky look but complied.

"Suds," said Nicolas to the door, which opened immediately.

He disappeared behind the door, and Madeline leaned against the wall and waited. A few minutes later, Nicolas' head appeared.

"He's alone. He's not drowned himself, either."

Madeline followed Nicolas into the prefect's bathroom and to Oliver, who was sitting with his feet and ankles dangling in the water. He didn't look up when they came in, but Madeline walked up to him and planned on standing there until he did. His hair was wet and he only had on his boxers, so Madeline guessed he had probably been in the bath. Madeline looked to see Nicolas standing near the door.

_He wants to watch? Fine, he'll finally see how I deal with him. What does he expect me to do? Snog Oliver into a blissful stupor?_

Shuddering oddly at the thought and banishing it immediately, Madeline waited for Oliver to look up, her arms crossed over her chest. Then, when Madeline was beginning to think he wouldn't look up, his head lifted, and his melancholic maple eyes found hers.

"Alright, Oliver?" she asked, her voice softer than she would have liked. His eyes expressed everything she need know—he was mourning a career he hadn't yet lost, he felt as though he had let his team down, and he was blaming no one but himself. Oliver didn't respond, but he didn't have to. He closed his eyes and looked away from her, his jaw set tight.

"Could you stand for me, please?"

Without speaking or meeting her eyes again, Oliver stood, still facing the water.

"Look at me, Oliver."

This took considerably longer, but eventually, slowly (tormenting Madeline every second of the way), Oliver turned and lifted his eyes to hers.

"What did I tell you the other day?"

"That Hufflepuff didn't… stand a chance," he said, his voice breaking a little.

"What _else_ did I say?" Madeline asked, unfazed.

"Mad—"

"Oliver, don't you play this game with me! What did I tell you the other day?"

"That… Puddlemere will take me even if I lose a match," he said, his jaw clenched again. He was staring at his feet.

"And?"

"And that… I'm not a rotten Keeper," he replied.

"Do you believe me?" she asked, her voice soft. His eyes met hers, and instead of replying, he pulled her into a tight hug. Madeline closed her eyes, her right hand holding the back of his head.

"You _have_ to believe me," she whispered. He pulled away from Madeline and looked at her, his eyes searching. He smiled as slightly as a paper cut.

"I'll believe you when my name's on the back of their uniform," he said. "Until then—"

"Until then, you'll keep working hard, but I'll not let you mope around like some petulant child. Do you hear me, Oliver Wood? You've lost one battle, but there're more to come."

"Have I been acting like a petulant child?"

"Yes, I'll say you have. You've been sitting in this bathroom for ages. Would you like to leave it anytime soon?" Madeline asked.

"I suppose so," he replied. He released Madeline from his arms and began getting dressed.

"I fell asleep in your Common Room waiting for you," she said, looking around.

Madeline noticed that Nicolas had left, leaving she and Oliver alone.

"Really?" asked Oliver, looking at her with his eyebrows knit together. "You haven't been celebrating with Cedric?"

"Does everyone think he's my only Hufflepuff friend? Honestly!"

"Well, you have been spending a lot of time with him lately. People have been saying he's the reason you broke up with Nick," Oliver replied.

"What?! First off, Nick broke it off with _me_. Secondly, I haven't been spending more time with him than usual. Oh but _yes_, I was celebrating my House's first Quidditch victory in ages while my best mate was drowning himself in a mermaid-infested scented bubble bath. _Right_."

"You can get cheeky with me if you want, but that doesn't change the fact that Cedric likes you."

"What utter rubbish!" cried Madeline indignantly.

Oliver was now fully clothed, his bag swung over his shoulder, and he looked at Madeline dead-on.

"Madeline," he said, his tone chastising, as if he was trying to get her to see reason. Madeline averted her eyes from his gaze, which was all too penetrating.

"Utter rubbish," she repeated.

"_Madeline_," he repeated, his voice lower this time.

"What, Oliver? What do you want me to say? That I have feelings for him?"

"No," he said, frowning. "I want you to tell me... what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking that I'm tired, and I'm hungry, and I'm relieved you didn't get hurt today."

"I forget that your mind likes to change the subject. Cedric _fancies_ you. What do you think about that?"

"I think he's… got every right to fancy me, I suppose."

"And?"

"And _what_? You know, you're being awfully nosy for someone who's supposed to be upset," Madeline said as they left the bathroom.

"Fine. When he asks you to Hogsmeade, I'll tell you I told you so."

"Fine. I'll see you there with Margaret, shall I?"

They were standing a few feet away from the statue of Boris the Bewildered when Oliver stopped and stared at her. Madeline raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"What, did you think I didn't notice? When were you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what? That Margaret wanted to snog and I obliged?"

"Sure, and perhaps you could mention whether or not you and Roger Davies got into a fight? I was worried."

"You have to stop worrying or you'll get sick again," he said sharply. "Davies and I didn't fight, but I have learned my lesson. No more snogging Ravenclaws."

"Was she even any good?"

"Not really," said Oliver, shrugging. "I'd say something about Ravenclaws not being good kissers, but Claire and Richard aren't here to appreciate the joke."

At this, Madeline laughed. It felt like ages since she had seen or spoken to Claire or Richard.

"I wonder if dinner's ready?" asked Oliver.

"I hope so," she said. "Let's go have a look."

When they reached the Great Hall, they were both pleased to see plenty of food.

"See you tomorrow?" Oliver asked.

"Library?"

"I'll bring caffeine," Oliver replied, smiling.

"I might need some this time," said Madeline, sighing.

"Alright. G'night."

"Night, Oliver."

All of the Hufflepuffs were in their Common Room, so Madeline found Claire (who gave her a big hug) and Richard at the Ravenclaw table, and she spent time catching up with them before heading to the Hufflepuff party. Rather than celebrating, Madeline snuck through the room and went to sleep in her dormitory. She was far too exhausted to celebrate.

* * *

**Chapter 12: Child's Play**

"Madeline, I was wondering…"

"No, alright? The answer is no," she replied, frowning. "I'm sorry."


	12. Child's Play

**Chapter 12: Child's Play**

"In order to heal others, we first need to heal ourselves. And to heal ourselves, we need to know how to deal with ourselves." - Thich Nhat Hanh

* * *

Sunday morning dawned dull and grey, giving Madeline the impression that the sun had only barely risen. She had gone to bed before Elaine and awoke earlier than her as well. Madeline showered and went to breakfast expecting to see few students awake; she counted seven other students as she walked in. She sat with Claire and Richard at the Ravenclaw table, and she began eating and discussing the match. They were all curious as to why the dementors were so intent on sucking Harry Potter's soul. Madeline still believed him to be cursed, of course. Oliver joined them a little while later, his eyes red and his feet dragging. He slumped down on into his seat next to Madeline, who was trying not to look amused, and Claire laughed quietly.

"Sleep alright, Oliver?" asked Richard, who wasn't hiding his smile. Oliver glared at Richard darkly, making Claire's laugh grow louder.

"I don't think he heard you, Richard. Maybe you should speak up," said Madeline with a grin. Oliver pushed her with his arm but cracked a smile. _He'll be alright in time._

"I don't want to be up this early," he growled, stabbing at his eggs.

"I don't think any of us want to be up this early," said Claire as she stifled a yawn.

"I have patrols on Sunday evenings now, so we have to study in the mornings," said Madeline with a sigh. "Oliver, you need to eat."

"Thanks, mum."

"Not a problem, dearie," she said. "Or at least it won't be if you actually eat something."

The four of them eventually finished eating, even Oliver, and trudged up to the empty library. Madeline was thankful that no one was studying, as she disliked when the library became crowded. They were working on reviewing third year Potions assignments (which they didn't plan on duplicating) when Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet found them.

After a few reciprocal greetings, Oliver asked, "How'd you find me?"

"Percy said you'd be up here," said Angelina. "We're about to visit Harry in the Hospital Wing. Want to join us?"

"Fred, George, and Katie are on their way as well," said Alicia.

Oliver sighed, his eyes closed briefly, and then nodded.

"Yeah, I'll join you," he said. Oliver stood but left his things where they were. "I'll come back after I visit Harry. See you later."

"Alright," said Richard and Madeline at the same time. They smiled at each other, and Claire rolled her eyes as Oliver turned and left the library.

"Peas in a pod, you two are," she said, shaking her head.

"You're just jealous of our _bond_," said Richard in a falsely sappy voice. Madeline and Claire both laughed.

After a many minutes of looking over Madeline's notes, which she had been forced to duplicate against her will by Oliver, Richard stood and stretched.

"We really should be asleep like normal people," he said as he sat back down.

"Well, I'm glad we're still on track," said Madeline, "because by Easter, the rest of the seventh years will be panicking like mad and will be trying to remember everything they've ever learned. Just wait. Next term, Nick will be the first one to ask for my reviews."

"How's Nick, by the way?" asked Claire.

"I don't know. He seemed relieved that I didn't die yesterday," Madeline replied, shrugging. "He's acting like Oliver and I are going to reveal some deep-seated love for each other now that he's broken it off. It's bloody annoying, if you wanted to know."

Richard and Claire exchanged their usual glance. Madeline rolled her eyes.

"Well, you and Oliver are—"

"We aren't talking about this," she said firmly. "Oliver and I are _friends_. End of discussion."

"Alright. Let's talk about something else. How about… Cedric Diggory?"

Madeline, upon hearing these words from Claire, flailed and made a loud "aaahhh" sound that reverberated off and in between the bookshelves. Madeline hoped Madam Pince wouldn't kick them out of the library for being loud, especially when they were the only ones in there.

"Well," said Richard, who was smiling, "that was an interesting reaction."

"Oliver's already told me that the whole school thinks I broke up with Nick for Cedric. It's not true," she said. "It's absurd, honestly!"

"We know," said Claire in a soothing voice. "But that's not the point."

"Fine. What's the point?"

"We were hoping you'd ask," said Richard, who glanced at Claire and then back at Madeline.

"Well?"

"We think you _should_ date Cedric," they said, nearly at the same time. Madeline hadn't expected that.

"_What?! Are you mad?_"

"Oh, Madeline, he's really kind—" said Claire.

"He's loyal, too—" added Richard.

"Stop! You're _joking_, right? Am I missing something? Nick and I just broke up because I didn't spend enough time with him. What makes you think I'll have more time for Cedric?"

"Madeline, he's perfect for you in absolutely every respect," said Claire seriously. Madeline's mouth fell open.

"Claire's right. Think about it," Richard added, his smile gone. "Like I've said, he's loyal, just like you, and you don't ever fight with him because he's really kind. He cares about you, of course, and he's not going to bother you about your schedule because he's too respectful. _And_ he's a Hufflepuff. Honestly it's just easier dating someone in your own House."

Madeline shook her head. _First Nick, then Oliver, now Claire and Richard! Why is everyone trying to tell me who I should date? Why does it even matter? I'm happy enough on my own._ Madeline took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and blocked her friends out for a moment. She needed to think. _They have a point, damnit. He's practically perfect and definitely better for me than Nick. But so what? Why can't things just progress naturally?_

Madeline felt like she was beating her brain against a brick wall, one that wasn't a secret passageway to a hidden platform at King's Cross. Something was off; something just wasn't right. She seemed to have some sort of mental block. And she didn't want to date Cedric or, really, anyone. Though she had spent years hoping to fall in love, something was telling her that she didn't need to rush the process. True love would find her in its own time, right?

It was then that Madeline realized Nick had been right all along—she hadn't been in love him. In fact, she was quite certain that she _had_ been using him, after all. A bubble of guilt swelled in Madeline's chest. She had been using him for his lips, for the exhilaration and comfort of physical contact, just like Margaret had used Oliver.

"Maddie?" asked Claire, her tone worried.

But Madeline wasn't paying attention. The realisation of her behavior had stunned her so much that she was having trouble breathing. She couldn't do that to Cedric—she couldn't lead him on, or have him believe that she loved him. She couldn't hurt him the way she had hurt Nick (despite his suspiciousness and anger, she did care about the idiot).

"Maddie, are you alright?" asked Richard, a little louder this time.

Madeline looked up. Richard's voice had brought her out of her own mind.

"I can't. I'll just hurt him," Madeline said, her voice quiet.

"Oh, sweetie, you don't know that—" said Claire.

"Oh but I do! I was dating Nick because I enjoyed snogging him! I couldn't use Cedric like that. Not even if he consented."

"Maddie—"

"No, just drop it," she said, shaking her head.

Once more, Madeline began reading her notes, this time purposefully ignoring any glances or looks coming from or passing between Richard and Claire. They remained silent for quite some time. The sky outside of the library was dull and grey still, as if the sky had a hangover from the storm. Perhaps it was mourning the passing of the clouds which had once made it feel so full. When Oliver joined them, it took him mere moments to realise that Madeline was upset—she didn't greet him, nor did she say anything when he began speaking.

"You alright?" asked Oliver. He gently placed his hand on her forearm, and upon contact, her skin seemed to be set ablaze. He was leaning close to her, so as to preserve some quietness, and Madeline was taken aback when she met his eyes. He was looking at her like the mere thought of her being upset would cause him endless pain. Madeline's response was lost somewhere in her throat, muffled and muddled by a large gulp.

She found herself staring at him much longer than she had ever planned to, and by the time she had realised what had happened, Madeline felt intensely embarrassed. A blush crept up her neck and her body felt as though it would melt from the heat. She clenched her jaw and turned her head to look down at her notes.

"Yeah, I'm alright."

"Ugh, I can't stand this anymore," said Claire. Madeline couldn't tell whether Claire had noticed Madeline's discomfort or if she was simply bored to death. Either way, Madeline was thankful for the distraction. "Can we please do something else? I feel like my brain is rotting away."

"We could move on to fourth year Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Madeline after checking her master list. "That's what's next on my list."

"Yes, please, let's do that."

They practiced spells and quizzed each other well into the afternoon, skipping lunch, at which point Richard said he was done for the day. Claire and Richard then made off toward the Ravenclaw tower, leaving Oliver and Madeline together in a library that was beginning to fill up with students working on homework for the upcoming week. They ended up packing their things and leaving the library. Oliver offered to walk her to the Hufflepuff Common Room, though Madeline was mildly frightened of running into Cedric, as she wouldn't know how she would behave around him now.

"Madeline, are you sure you're alright? You've been out of sorts since I visited Harry," said Oliver. Madeline stopped walking and looked at her best friend, her hazel eyes searching. She again felt as though he should know, and she really wanted his opinion on Cedric.

"Do you think I should date Cedric?" she asked.

"Is that what this is about? You should do what makes you happiest," he said, shrugging. She nodded, her face scrunched up a little.

"You're right, of course," she mumbled. "I still feel rotten about the whole Nick thing."

"Why?"

"He was right. I wasn't in love with him. I was just using him."

"If it's any consolation, he doesn't love you either," said Oliver. Madeline stopped walking again, stunned.

"What?"

"He thinks he knows everything. You hurt his ego more than anything else," said Oliver, who looked offended. "He's not as upset as he would like everyone to think."

"Really? But he was… he was so mad at me!"

"Of course he was mad. He didn't like thinking that he wasn't more important than anyone else in your life. One day he'll find a girl who will put him at the top of her list, and he'll be happy again. Until then, he'll be jealous and bitter."

Madeline stared at Oliver as she had in the library: mildly shocked and a little scared. How did Oliver know all of this? _Oh right, he lives with Nick and Percy_.

"I guess he felt like I chose Cedric over him when I joined the team," said Madeline. The idea was a little striking. She was on a roll with the realisations today.

"I want to go flying," said Oliver wistfully, almost as if he had said it to himself. Madeline felt a smile tug at her cheeks. _Of course._ "We should go flying when the weather is better."

"Together?" Madeline asked, feeling a sudden lightness in her limbs.

Oliver nodded and placed a hand on the back of his neck.

"It's alright. I figured you wouldn't want to. I know you're busy. You're playing Ravenclaw soon; I expect you'll be practicing every night," he replied.

"No, I'd love to! You know, that might be a great alternative to snogging the living daylights out of someone," said Madeline. Oliver laughed.

"You can snog the 'living daylights out of someone'?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. I'm quite good at it," said Madeline, nodding. She felt that weight again, but ignored it. Oliver laughed again and she felt her heart swell—she loved making him forget about his problems.

"I'll bet you are," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Oliver," she said, the smile slipping off her face and a frown appearing, "I just… this Cedric thing is really bothering me. Claire and Richard said he's perfect for me, and the problem is… I think they might be right."

Oliver frowned too.

"He's… young."

Madeline nodded.

"Indeed," Madeline replied, nodding. "But in five years it wouldn't matter."

"Thinking that far ahead, are you?" Oliver asked. Madeline felt her words catch in her throat again, and she cleared her throat and began walking.

"Madeline," Oliver said, his voice deeper than usual. Madeline turned around to see Oliver standing where she had left him. He took a step closer to her, his arm extended as though to reach for her, but stopped short and retracted his hand. He didn't touch her, and Madeline was secretly thankful. His touch had been doing weird things to her as of late.

"It's… just as I said. You should do what makes you happiest. If snogging the 'living daylights' out of Cedric makes you happy, then… do it. I'll not stop you from dating whoever you want. That's not my job as your best friend. My job is to support you and hurt anyone who hurts you. Cedric knows he'll have me to reckon with if he hurts you."

"You haven't hit Nick, have you?" Madeline asked.

"No, I haven't. Has he hurt you?"

Madeline shook her head, sighing. This conversation hadn't gone as Madeline had expected, and she felt foolish. When did anything ever go as she expected? Thoughts began racing through her head faster than she could keep up with them, and she suddenly felt light-headed and tired. She backed up to the wall of the corridor and slid down to the flagged stone floor.

_I didn't want to be Head Girl. I didn't want the responsibility of all of the students. I'm sick of staying up late every night doing homework. I hate patrolling the halls, afraid that Sirius Black is going to burst through a tapestry and kill me. I'm sick of worrying about Flint attacking me. I'm tired of people telling me what I should do, who I should date, or how I should fall in love. I'm just so bloody tired._

And with that, Madeline was crying. The stress was weighing her down, and she felt that eventually she would be nothing but a pile of magical dust.

She felt a hand stroke her head and looked up, tears streaming irregularly from her eyes, to see Oliver kneeling before her. He was in pain; she could see it in his eyes. He was in pain because she was crying, and she had never felt more thankful. She started sobbing harder, but Oliver pulled her up into a standing position and held her closely.

"I'm hoping this hasn't anything to do with Nick," Oliver said, pulling her head away to look into her eyes. Madeline smiled and laughed, even while crying, which she was sure wasn't very pretty, and she shook her head. As gently as possible, Oliver took her head in his hands and pressed his lips to her forehead. Madeline felt her body go slack with relief and comfort, and her breathing returned to normal. He pressed his lips to her forehead again and then pulled her into another hug.

"You'll be alright. You're strong, and smart, and brave. Don't forget that," he said, looking into her eyes again. Madeline felt her face scrunch up in the most unattractive way and she cried a little bit more.

"Merlin, I'm such a wimp," she said when she finally regained control of herself.

"No, you're just a bit teary-eyed sometimes," Oliver replied with a smile. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You're dealing with more than most could bear."

After giving Oliver another hug, the two made their way to the Hufflepuff Common Room. Once at the nook near the kitchens, Oliver smiled and left. Madeline tapped on the barrels and entered her Common Room, which was less crowded than Madeline expected. Where was everyone?

There was one instance in which reality met her expectations, however: Cedric was sitting at a table with a few other fifth years, and when she entered, he stood and greeted her. Madeline didn't sit because she didn't want to feel obligated to talk to him for too long.

"Studying?" he asked once he had made his way to her, a knowing smile on his lips.

"Yeah," she said. "You?"

Cedric nodded.

"With that lot, yeah. Listen," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Can we talk?"

There was no one really around except his mates, which were on the other side of the Common Room and engrossed in their own conversation. Cedric was leaning up against the back of one of the sofas, looking as casually handsome as possible. Madeline felt something in her chest flutter, but a shard of panic was thrust in her stomach at the same moment.

"Madeline, I was wondering…"

"No, alright? The answer is no," she replied suddenly, frowning. "I'm sorry."

Cedric stared at her, his mouth agape. Her words had flown from her mouth before she could stop them.

"Sorry!" she said quickly, smacking her forehead with her hand. She felt so stupid. Madeline readjusted the bag on her shoulder and decided how to move forward. "I just… I'm a bit jumpy today. Go on, what is it?"

"Well, I was wondering if you could help me study for the Transfiguration OWL. I talked to McGonagall, and she said you'd be the perfect person to help me," he said. Madeline sighed, but felt a smile grace her lips. He wasn't asking her on a date, he was asking for a tutor. She could do that.

"Yes, I can definitely help with that. I have all of my notes with me from home; I've been using them to study for the NEWTs."

"Perfect! I know your schedule's a bit full, especially with the Ravenclaw game coming up—"

"Ugh, I don't even want to talk about it. My arms are still sore from trying to hang to my broom the other day," she said. Cedric laughed brightly, and Madeline smiled. He had a pleasant-sounding laugh; it wasn't too harsh or too loud. "Let me talk to McGonagall. She might let us use her classroom. Do you have a break during the week?"

"I do, actually. On Tuesday and Thursday afternoons."

"I have those afternoons free. I'm all yours," said Madeline with a sweet smile.

"I like the sound of that. Maybe I'll actually get an OWL in Transfiguration."

* * *

Monday passed without any comments from Claire or Richard about Madeline's love life, and she was thankful. She had enough going on with homework, patrols with Percy (which were mostly carried out in silence), and Quidditch practices.

Tuesday afternoon found Madeline sitting in the Hufflepuff Common Room reading someone else's copy of the Daily Prophet. She was checking on any updates for Black, but nothing had been reported. After flipping through the paper, Madeline set it down on the table on which she had found it. There were a few older students milling about and talking to each other, and just as Madeline was considering going to her room, Cedric walked in with a third year named Ernie, who seemed to be annoying Cedric about something. Once he spotted Madeline, he smiled, excused himself, and made his way to her. Recognising his preference for her, Madeline felt a blush creep up her spine. She tried to shake it off, but as soon as he was standing near her, she didn't know what to say, so she sat there blushing and smiling stupidly.

"Did you talk to McGonagall?" he asked, giving her something to talk about.

"I did. She's using her classroom, but she's given me permission to use a smaller classroom in the same corridor," said Madeline. "I also have all of my notes from fifth year Transfiguration."

"Shall we set off?"

"Yeah," Madeline said as she stood. "Why don't you tell me what you've covered so far this year?"

"Well, we've been working on turning mushrooms into dinner plates, which was relatively difficult. The most recent thing we've covered though is the _Gemino Curse_. I still haven't really gotten the hang of it."

"Well, that's alright. We'll go over anything you'd like," said Madeline.

When they made it to the classroom, Madeline set her things down at one of the tables and began pulling out her notes. Cedric stood next to her and waited patiently.

"Are you more worried about the practical portion?"

"Yes, definitely," said Cedric, nodding.

"When I took my OWL, they had me vanish a toad, which really wasn't difficult at all. The other things you'll be learning this year are vanishing, which is simple by Transfiguration's standards, and, of course, the _Inanimatus Conjurus Spell_. That one's no fun—I'll just be honest with you. So, where would you like to start?"

"I suppose we could start with the _Gemino Curse_ since I'm still not very good at it," Cedric replied.

"Alright," said Madeline, who stood in front of the table and then conjured a snuffbox.

"_Geminio_," she said, concentrating very hard. A moment later, five more snuffboxes had branched from the original.

Cedric's mouth hung open.

"You just… made that look incredibly easy."

"It's just a snuffbox."

"You're just brilliant," said Cedric, smiling. Madeline blushed and realised that he was standing not even an arm's length away from her. His arms were exposed because he had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, and Madeline found herself admiring them.

"I've had more practice," she said, trying to control herself. She was getting distracted, so she stared, unseeing, at her snuffboxes. When Cedric didn't respond, she met his gaze, which was tender and full of admiration. She felt her heart flutter again.

_Maybe I am supposed to end up with Cedric. Maybe he is perfect for me._

Cedric noticed that Madeline was dazed and took this opportunity to place a hand on her back. At his touch, Madeline suddenly felt rather malleable. He seemed to notice this as well, and Cedric then traced his fingers up her spine, looking for her reaction. Madeline's lips parted, her eyes widening a fraction, and Cedric's eyes flickered to her lips. Before Madeline knew what he was doing, Cedric's lips had smothered hers and his hand had pressed her body to his.

After a brief moment of contact, Cedric deepened the kiss and pressed his body tighter to hers. Though shocked, Madeline welcomed the feeling of his arms holding her close to him. Within moments, though, Madeline realised that Cedric was kissing her hungrily—it was though he was scared she would disappear, or that he would wake up from some dream. Madeline broke the kiss and smiled, looking up at him. His lips were pink and his eyes were dark. She caressed his lips with her fingers. He kissed those, too. When she pulled her hand away, his lips found the base of her neck and trailed up to her cheek. Madeline didn't tremor. "Cedric, we should talk about this."

"What's there to talk about?" he asked, his mouth pressing to hers. Madeline broke the kiss and pulled away from his grasp.

"If we're not going to talk, I'm leaving."

* * *

**Chapter 13: Burden of Defeat**

"You did _what?!_"

"I—well, that is, _we_—er, well, we kissed."


	13. Burden of Defeat

**Chapter 13: Burden of Defeat**

Lots of dialogue in this one. Watching _How Harry Met Sally_ has been great inspiration for this story. If you haven't seen it, go watch it. It was incredibly well-written. Oh, and thanks for still reading! It's greatly appreciated. =)

* * *

"What?" was the first word to slip past his tender lips.

"We need to talk about this, Cedric," said Madeline. Her eyebrows were trying to meet, and she felt a headache coming on.

"I kissed you," he said dimly.

"That you did," she replied. He stared at his feet for a moment and seemed to have many thoughts racing through his head.

"I don't know where to go from here," Cedric admitted. "I never thought I'd ever... kiss you."

"Well," said Madeline with a sigh. She licked her lips before continuing. "We have to, you know, figure out what this means."

When Cedric didn't respond, he merely stared at her, Madeline felt obligated to say something more.

"Cedric, do you have feelings for me?"

"Yes, I think so. I want to kiss you again, if that's what that means," he replied. Madeline shook her head ever so slightly.

"It's not that simple, I'm afraid," she said.

"Well, let me ask you a question. Do you have feelings for me?" Cedric asked, finally meeting her eyes. Madeline felt a flush of guilt spread over her limbs.

"I…" she said, feeling foolish again. She was such a coward—could she not even tell him the truth?

"No, Cedric. I don't. Not the way you want me to or the way you deserve. I'm sorry," she said. She forced herself to meet his eyes. She wouldn't cower from his gaze.

Madeline watched as he nodded. For a moment they stared at each other sadly, and then Cedric walked past her and left the classroom. Madeline's face scrunched together again, this time because she felt so awful. She packed up her things, vanished the snuffboxes, and left the classroom.

She wasn't sure where she was going until she found herself standing in front of the eagle knocker.

"Give me food, and I will live; give me water, and I will die. What am I?"

Madeline had heard this riddle before many years ago, and she remembered the answer.

"Fire," she replied.

The eagle knocker nodded and let her into the Ravenclaw Common Room, where she saw Claire and Nicolas sitting at a table doing homework. They looked up when she walked in and were confused to see her.

"I thought you were tutoring Cedric Diggory?" Richard asked.

"What happened," Claire said. There was no question, and Madeline immediately launched into the story.

"You did _what_?!" Claire blurted a bit later.

"I—well, that is, _we_—er, well, we kissed."

For some reason, Claire wasn't worried about the details of the kiss as much as Madeline was; instead, she was curious as to Madeline's reaction.

"So I guess you really don't have feelings for him?"

Madeline shook her head and thought she saw a smug smile briefly drift over Claire's lips.

"I told you so, but no one listens to me," said Madeline. She huffed and sat back in her chair.

"What are you going to do now?" said Richard, looking concerned.

"Well for starters I'm going to try to neutralise everything. Cedric and I will hopefully go back to being friends, and Nick… well, he'll come around eventually.

"What about Oliver?" asked Claire.

"What about him?" Madeline replied, her eyebrows creasing once more.

"Are you going to try to neutralise him, too?"

"There's nothing to neutralise. He and I are just as we've always been," said Madeline.

"Oh," said Claire lightly. "He seemed a little different—"

"You mean after he lost the first match of the season to _Hufflepuff_?" Madeline said with a sardonic twist to her words. "You mean just like I said he would?"

"Fine, you've made your point," said Claire huffily.

"I think I'm going to go for a flight. The weather's nice enough."

"Be careful," replied Richard.

"Always am."

* * *

The next few weeks didn't pass by speedily; actually, they were rather torturous. Madeline and Cedric were awkward around one another, which left Madeline feeling weird during Quidditch practices. She and Cedric hadn't talked about what happened since that day, and Madeline wasn't sure if they would. They practiced nearly every day before the Ravenclaw game, but when the match finally arrived, Hufflepuff was slaughtered.

Murray and Peter had apparently had a falling out the day before the match, which didn't fare well for anyone, and Cedric seemed to be at his worst. He allowed Cho Chang to fly him in any direction she pleased, leading to her capture of the Snitch. Madeline had played well until she got blasted in the gut by a Bludger and was taken out of the game due to multiple broken ribs. She was carted off to the Hospital Wing and woke up hours later.

All in all, the game was terrible for Hufflepuff. Though Madeline hadn't intentionally injured herself, she was secretly thankful her team had lost by enough to give Gryffindor a fighting chance at winning the Cup. She had been lying in her bed in the Hospital Wing when her team came in to tell her the news. After they left, Madame Pomfrey allowed Claire and Oliver to sit with her.

"Where's Richard?" she asked upon noticing his absence. He and Claire were hardly ever seen without one another.

"He's off celebrating in the Tower. He said he'd visit you tomorrow," Claire responded. She squeezed Madeline's hand. "I'm glad you're alright. We were terrified."

"All of us," said Oliver, nodding.

"I mean, Maddie, the entire school seemed to take a collective gasp when you were hit," said Claire.

"You're probably exaggerating, like usual."

"Your team was definitely off its game today. Diggory looked like he had never played before," said Oliver quietly. Madeline allowed herself a small smile; ever since Oliver had found out what happened between Cedric and Madeline, he had been calling him "Diggory." Claire had been expecting a worse reaction, but because Cedric hadn't really hurt Madeline in any way, Oliver couldn't be angry.

"Lucky for you, eh? I'm going to go to the Tower and make sure things don't get carried away. Not that I mind," said Claire with a playful wink. "I'm glad you're alright. I'll see you later."

"She's right. You still have a chance," said Madeline, looking at Oliver. He nodded but didn't say anything. Madeline tried to sit up a little so she could readjust her back and neck, but this caused her pain so she whimpered and lied back down.

"Need help?"

"No, I probably shouldn't move. I'm just a little uncomfortable," she said with a grimace.

Oliver stood and said, "Tell me what you need."

"Oh," Madeline said. "No, really, it's fine. I just wish I could sit up and look at you."

"Is it better if I stand?" he asked, smiling a bit.

"It's awkward, honestly," said Madeline, who laughed. The sensation hurt her ribs, though, so she stopped immediately. He sat near her on the bed. "No laughing! It hurts."

"Should I fetch Madame Pomfrey?"

"Oliver, who says 'fetch' anymore?"

"I dunno. I guess I do," he said. Madeline smiled up at him even though she was tired. She forced herself not to laugh.

"You're funny."

"You're exhausted and injured, and I should let you sleep," he said. Madeline yawned and closed her eyes. Gently, so gently she could barely feel his hand, Oliver touched Madeline's injured side. "I don't like you playing Quidditch, mostly because I can't stand seeing you hurt."

"Well, I suppose I'm done for the year, seeing as we've lost so terribly," said Madeline, her eyes open again. Oliver's hand moved to her arm, and she was thankful for the warmth. Her eyes felt heavy and closed again. "Oliver?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you stay?"

Oliver's weight shifted on the bed, his hand leaving her arm, and Madeline felt him move closer to her. He placed his hands on either side of her head and kissed her forehead again, for quite awhile this time. His lips were soft and warm. It created the same calming sensation she had experienced the last time he had kissed her forehead.

"For as long as you need," he said. Madeline fell asleep to him stroking her forehead.

The next day was Sunday, so Madeline didn't have to fret over missing class. She had a string of visitors, including Percy, Nicolas, Cedric, and even Professor Lupin, but Oliver was there most of the day. He even had Elaine bring Madeline's notes up to the Hospital Wing, and they reviewed for the NEWTs for as long as she was awake. Madame Pomfrey, however, wasn't satisfied by Monday morning. So she missed class on Monday, but Claire brought her homework; she, Oliver, and Richard sat with Madeline and they did their homework together.

Madeline was thankful when Madame Pomfrey told her she could leave Monday evening. She immediately went down to dinner in the Great Hall and decided to sit with Oliver, who was sitting with Nicolas and Percy.

"Madeline! Welcome back," was Percy's greeting.

"I'm really glad you're alright," said Nicolas, his tone sincere.

"Yeah, well," she said, smiling and shrugging. "That's the game, isn't it? When Oliver took that Bludger to his head in third year, his very first match, I thought I was going to collapse from fear and worry. I actually had panic attacks, remember?"

"I remember you skiving off Potions most of that week," said Nicolas with a laugh. Percy looked affronted but didn't say anything. "I also remember dragging you out of the Hospital Wing at breakfast and dinner and force-feeding you."

"Really?" Oliver asked.

"Oliver, you didn't wake up for _a week_. Of course I was worried out of my mind! I couldn't concentrate on anything; I was a total wreck."

"That's touching," he said, nudging her arm. Madeline rolled her eyes.

"Yes, please, patronise me some more."

"Madeline, if you were unconscious for a week straight, I'd jump off the Astronomy Tower," said Oliver.

"Oliver, I was being sarcastic!" said Madeline, her voice raised. Why was he patronising her?

"And I wasn't joking."

"Don't say things like that, please. You wouldn't kill yourself, so you shouldn't joke about it."

"I wasn't joking," he repeated, his voice growing angrier.

Madeline looked at her friend, her expression shifting from confused to horrified. She could tell by meeting his gaze that he was, indeed, serious. She looked to Nicolas and Percy only to see they had left the table.

"And what would I do when I finally woke up? Find that you'd killed yourself? D'you know what that would do to me?" asked Madeline, her throat thick.

"What if you didn't wake up?"

"What if I _did_?"

"Maddie…" he said, using her nickname for the first time in many years, and Madeline felt her flesh sear.

"Oliver," she said, her strong gaze meeting his saddened one. "It would _destroy_ me and your family. Promise me you won't ever consider it."

When he didn't respond, Madeline felt a rush of panic, sharp like a shard of glass. She took hold of his arm and gripped it tightly.

"Oliver, _promise me_."

"I'm not going to promise anything," he said.

"I'm_ not going anywhere_. And even if something _did_ happen to me, you can't just give up on everything you've ever planned on doing just because I'm gone. Promise me, _please_, that you wouldn't do that to your family. Promise me you wouldn't do that to _me_."

"How are you making this about you?"

"Because I won't _ever_ be happy knowing that you'd seriously consider killing yourself if I died. That's _madness_, as you like to say."

"It's not madness. I just... don't know what I do without you," he said. Madeline felt a new, odd sensation arise in her stomach.

"You'd live, if you'd bloody let yourself. You'd go on to play for Puddlemere. You'd give your mother some beautiful grandchildren." During the pause, Madeline found herself picturing Oliver with children. "You know, you really should find a redhead. You'd have cute ginger kids."

"She'd have to be good at Quidditch. Any kids of mine will be flying a broom their entire life," said Oliver. Madeline sighed. They were off topic, but she wasn't going to bring it back up just yet. They would talk about again soon; she would make sure of it.

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't fly on your broom sixty percent of the time. Are there any redheads on Puddlemere's team?"

"Don't think so," he said with a small, almost disbelieving, smile.

"One might get recruited. I'll keep my hopes up."

There was awkward pause in which Madeline felt herself struggling to think of something else to say. She finished her glass of pumpkin juice and looked around to see many students leaving the Great Hall.

"Are you going back to your Common Room?" Oliver asked, looking at Madeline's empty plate and then her.

"I think so. I don't know if I should walk all the way to the Gryffindor Tower tonight. Madame Pomfrey may have a fit."

"I'll go with you, then," Oliver said.

Madeline looked at him, her eyebrows pinched together.

"Is that alright?"

"Yeah. It's just… you've never been to my Common Room."

"'Bout damn time, don't you think?"

Madeline thought about it. She was a little worried about letting him know how to get into the Hufflepuff Common Room because unlike the other Houses, the Hufflepuffs were notoriously secretive about their Common Room. He was right, though. She smiled.

"Yeah. Let's go," she said, standing a little gingerly. Oliver stood as well and followed her through the Entrance Hall and to the basement.

"Do you know how to get into all of the Common Rooms?" Oliver asked while staring curiously at a painting of a banana and cucumber dancing the tango.

"Well I'm Head Girl, aren't I?"

"I suppose so. So does Slytherin have a password as well?"

"Yes, and Ravenclaws' is answering a riddle. Ours is… well, you'll see. Maybe."

"What do you mean, 'maybe'?"

Madeline laughed and kept walking. A few moments later, Madeline and Oliver were standing in front of the barrels Madeline knew to be the entrance to her Common Room.

"Alright, close your eyes," said Madeline, smiling.

Without a word, Oliver did as she asked. After checking to make sure his eyes were really closed, Madeline took out her wand and tapped the correct barrel to the tune of "Helga Hufflepuff," which had taken her a few days to learn how to do properly.

"What was that? Can I open my eyes?"

"No, not yet," said Madeline. The barrel door slid open, and Madeline decided she wanted him to close his eyes until he got in the passageway. She stepped up to him and said, "You trust me, right?"

"Aye," he said firmly, a small smile on his lips.

"I'm going to take your hands," she said. His large, rough hands were warm against hers, and she felt a little shaky holding them.

"Your hands are cold," he said with a small, almost nervous laugh. Oliver then pressed his hands together, with hers in between, and rubbed them.

"Alright," she said, pulling him gently by his hands. "A few steps, that's it. Now, I need you to crouch."

"What?" he asked, his face scrunching up in a manner that Madeline found to be adorable.

"You have to crawl," she said, laughing. "I'm right here, and I'm the only one around. Just crouch and once you're in you can open your eyes."

So Oliver rested on his hands and knees.

"Now what?"

"Just crawl straight," said Madeline, smiling. She was next to him to make sure that he neither opened his eyes nor crawled off in the wrong direction.

"This is awkward," Oliver said. He laughed and began slowly making his way towards the barrel. Once he was in, Madeline followed and made sure the barrel's top was shut. A moment later, his voice came through the passageway. "You're staring at my arse, aren't you?"

"Oh, honestly!" said Madeline angrily, but a smile spread over her face.

"You are!"

"Well of course I am! It's right in front of me, isn't it?" she replied.

Once out of the passageway, Oliver offered Madeline a hand to help her with the drop.

"I knew it," he said, smiling at her. Madeline rolled her eyes and looked around her Common Room. Many younger students were looking at them with something akin to fear, but Madeline saw a couch by the fire and pulled him towards it. She ignored the questioning gazes of some of her Housemates. Oliver looked around, amazed, while they made their way to the fireside seat.

"It's so… homey."

"Isn't it great?" Madeline asked as she leaned her head against the back of the couch, her eyes closed.

"Yeah, it is, actually. Why don't you lie down?"

"Because I'd probably fall asleep," she replied with a small laugh.

"If you're tired, then—"

"Oliver, stuff it."

"Fine," he said with a huff. Then, without her permission, Oliver put his arms underneath her, picked her up (at which point she muffled a scream and wrapped her arms around his neck), and sat down with her legs resting over his lap.

"What did you do that for?" she asked, still a little surprised. They were much closer now, and Madeline felt nervous for no particular reason. His hands were resting on her shins.

"So you could lie down," he said. She leaned back and felt her head meet a soft pillow, which was wedged against the side of the couch. She smiled and closed her eyes.

"I'm not tired," she said, stifling a yawn.

"Since when have you lied to me?" Oliver asked. Madeline could hear the smile in his voice.

After a few moments of listening to the fire crackle, Madeline fell asleep. Oliver, however, did not, and when Cedric found them sitting there, his expression became steely.

"Wood," he said curtly.

"Diggory," Oliver replied.

After a few tense moments, Cedric sat in the chair nearest them.

"Is she alright?" Cedric asked quietly.

"I think so," said Oliver, nodding. "Madame Pomfrey let her go tonight."

Cedric nodded but said nothing.

"I'm sorry about the match," said Oliver.

"Nah, don't be," Cedric replied, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling. "If you can beat Ravenclaw, you'll have a chance at the Cup. Once she'd been hit I knew we were done for."

"I will never forget watching her hit the ground," Oliver said, shaking his head as if trying to banish the memory.

At this, Oliver looked up to see Cedric gazing at Madeline. There was a tenderness in his gaze which Oliver could not forgive; it was the same tenderness with which Nicolas and Alex Mulroney had looked at her. He had learned how to spot it over the years, but he had not yet discovered how to forgive it.

"I wonder if she can hear us," said Cedric many moments later. The fire was still crackling merrily in its grate, and most of the younger students had retreated to their dormitories. Oliver would need to leave soon.

"I doubt it," Oliver replied. "She's breathing evenly."

Oliver didn't mention that he had become accustomed to her breathing while staying with her in the Hospital Wing over the years.

"Then allow me to say this," said Cedric, looking at his clasped hands. Oliver held his breath; he wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Cedric was about to say.

"You're a very lucky man."

Oliver closed his eyes and sighed. His head leaning against the back of the couch, Oliver found himself thinking about her again.

After a few moments of silence between them, Oliver swallowed the lump in his throat and said, "I know."

* * *

**Chapter 14: A Christmas Miracle**

"You don't know what you're saying," Madeline mumbled.

"Don't I?"

"No," Madeline said, her tone firm and chilly.

"Really, Madeline? You can honestly say you never pictured us together?"


	14. A Christmas Miracle

**Chapter 14: Christmas Miracle**

_A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,_  
_For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn._  
_Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices! _

* * *

"Madeline, can we talk?"

Madeline looked up from her Potions essay to see Cedric standing before her, looking rather more nervous than she was accustomed to seeing him.

Today was Thursday, the last Thursday of the term, and Madeline was nearly done with her Potions essay. Snape had been the only professor to give homework for the last lesson, so all of his students were furious, especially the seventh years. Madeline hadn't yet been able to complete the essay, what with all of her Head Girl responsibilities, which meant that she was sitting alone in the library on Thursday afternoon trying to finish the essay before dinner.

Though she wasn't completely opposed to speaking with Cedric, Madeline's bad mood kept her from being pleased to see him.

"Er, sure," was her response. She looked back down at her essay and began writing another sentence when Cedric took the seat across from her.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"I'm alive," she murmured, her head down as she wrote. A lock of wavy hair fell over her eyes. Today Madeline's reddish brown hair was up in a messy bun because she didn't feel like dealing with it. The scratching of her old quill (she really needed a new set) was all she heard for a few moments. The sound seemed to spur an itch near her chin, and she lifted a hand absentmindedly to scratch. If Cedric was trying to muster up the courage to say something brave to her, she didn't want to ruin it, so she remained quiet. After what felt like several minutes, Madeline stopped writing and looked up. Cedric was staring out of the nearby window, but when he heard her quill stop, he turned his gaze to her.

"We can talk later. I know you're busy," he said. Madeline's eyebrows flinched upwards.

"I'm going to be busy later as well. If you have something to tell me, you might as well do it now that you have me alone," she said, hating how angry her voice sounded.

"Oh," he said as though she had asked him to leave. "Er, I just wanted to… tell you I'm sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry for?" Madeline asked as she began writing again.

"I've been an idiot, honestly. I shouldn't have run away from you, I should have stayed and talked to you. Then at the Quidditch match, you got injured… Look, alright, I'm just sorry."

"If you're referring to what happened in the Transfiguration classroom, your apology is a few weeks overdue," Madeline said without looking up.

"I know. I'm sorry; really, Madeline, I am. You have to know how you fluster me."

"Cedric," Madeline said with a sigh in her tone.

"Look—for what it's worth, I thought we could have been great together," he said, like he had practiced the words many times.

_There it is_, Madeline thought. She closed her eyes. _I guess we are going to talk about this_.

"You don't know what you're saying," Madeline mumbled as she began writing another sentence.

"Don't I?"

"No," Madeline said, her tone firm and chilly.

"Really, Madeline? You can honestly say you never pictured us together?"

"It doesn't matter, Cedric. And if this is all you wanted to talk about, feel free to leave. I'm rather busy."

Cedric spoke only after a few pregnant moments of silence. Madeline had more to say, but she felt that she should keep her mouth shut.

"You're right—it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that I have feelings for you—"

"What do you want me to say?" Madeline hissed, slamming her hand down. "Do you want me to apologise for not using you like I used Nick? Do you want me to be sorry that I don't have more feelings for you? Because I can assure you, I'm quite sorry. So if you only came here to make me feel worse—congratulations. Well done, Cedric."

"Maddie—"

"Please leave."

"No, I won't—"

"Leave, Cedric," she said, her eyes willing him to go.

Once he was gone, Madeline breathed easily again. She coughed to relieve the lump in her throat and then continued working on her essay.

As Madeline packed her books into her bag, the sun was sinking behind the distant and jagged horizon. It had snowed a great deal the day before, and the sun was reflecting almost painfully off the glossy white. She was trying to fit the last book in her bag when Claire found her. Madeline hadn't been avoiding her friends, but she hadn't exactly been trying to spend time with them either. None of them really understood her anxiety: Claire would try to help but only make it worse, Nicolas would poke fun at her, and Richard would start talking to her like she would hex them all at any moment. Madeline therefore felt more comfortable being alone when stressed.

"There you are. You sort of disappeared on us," Claire said as a greeting.

"You knew where I'd be," Madeline replied, shrugging.

"You're right. We wanted to give you some space if that's what you needed."

"I don't feel good," said Madeline as she lifted her bag up on the table, where it landed with a dull thud.

"I'd say. You look like rubbish, as well," said Claire. Madeline scoffed.

"Some friend you are."

"Don't you dare call me a rotten friend—I know you'd rather me be honest than tell you even the smallest white lie."

"Yeah," Madeline said with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm just in a mood."

"I've noticed. You haven't eaten today, have you?" Claire asked, placing a hand on Madeline's shoulder. "Let's get you to dinner."

Once in the Great Hall, which was packed with students buzzing about the Hogsmeade trip coming up, Claire and Madeline sat with Richard and Oliver at the end of the Gryffindor table. Nicolas was flirting rather obviously with Margaret at the Ravenclaw table, and this had been the topic of discussion when Madeline took her seat across from Oliver.

"Is she not still with Davies?" Richard asked.

"Suppose not," said Claire. "They've been paying more attention to each other than usual, those two have."

Claire nodded towards Nicolas and Margaret, and Madeline shrugged.

"He could do better," she said as she scooped some potatoes onto her plate. Madeline looked up to see Oliver smiling wryly at her.

"What're you saying, Madeline?"

Madeline felt a smile spread across her face.

"I think he should find someone a tad more worth his time," she said.

"Sounding a bit smug, you are," Oliver replied.

"Am I? You never heard me say _I_ was worth his time."

"You don't think she was worth _my_ time, do you?" Oliver asked, his tone still wry.

"Oliver Wood, no girl here is worth your time. Don't forget—I'm still holding out for you to meet a ginger Quidditch princess," Madeline said, pointing her fork at him.

"Did someone say ginger Quidditch princess?" said George Weasley, yelling down the table at them. Many of the students around them laughed.

"Yes," said Madeline, who leaned forward to see George and Fred. "I did! I was referring to Oliver's dream girl, you see. She must be a fantastic Quidditch player and she must be ginger. You lot are halfway there!"

"You're quite right, Palmer," said Fred, who stood and bowed a bit. "You see, everyone, George and I have a little secret…. We're actually women!"

Most of the Gryffindor table erupted into laughter, and Madeline didn't feel irritable for the first time all day.

"Oy! Wood!" said George. "You'd better stay away from our sister!" After another round of laughter, to which the small Ginny Weasley turned beet red, Madeline heard George say, "I'm serious!"

* * *

The last Hogsmeade weekend of the year passed slowly, at least for Madeline, who was quite ready to be in the comfort of her parents' home. She and her friends drank a few butterbeers, bought a few Christmas presents, and went back to the castle. There were plenty of students trying to have snowball fights, but Madeline did not join them. Rather than seeing her friends or packing her belongings, Madeline spent her last hours at Hogwarts trying to check out as many books as possible. She found Hermione Granger checking out books as well, but they did not speak to one another—Madeline knew what stress looked like, and even though she was hiding it well, Hermione Granger was definitely looking forward to the break just as much as Madeline.

Soon, though, Madeline joined what seemed to be the entire school on the train platform in Hogsmeade. Madeline wasn't one hundred percent sure, but it seemed like literally every student opted to leave Hogwarts for the break; considering Sirius Black's apparent interest in the castle, she wasn't surprised.

Flurries of snow were falling as Madeline boarded the Hogwarts Express with Claire and Richard, flakes settling on their hair and jumpers and scarves. Nicolas and Oliver were having a conversation with Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet, and Claire, who preferred seats near the front, found an empty compartment just in time for the train to take off.

Madeline, who was relieved to be rid of her Head Girl duties and homework for a while, curled up in an extra large jumper and began reading her copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. She always skipped over the part about the Snidgets, though, because it made her sad. Though she was also looking forward to being able to sleep whenever and as often as she wished, Madeline figured that could wait until she arrived at home.

After perhaps twenty minutes, Oliver joined their compartment, sitting next to Madeline.

"Nick's a git," he mumbled tersely. Richard raised his eyebrows, and Madeline snorted.

"Some way to talk about your best friend," she said, turning the page of her book.

"You're my best friend," he said in response. Madeline's hazel eyes, which looked grey in the dimly lit compartment, turned to meet his brown ones. The look she saw there made her feel lightheaded, so she looked away.

"He's your_ other_ best friend," she replied, and Oliver shrugged.

"Which means I can call him a git when he acts like one."

"What did he do?" asked Claire, setting down her copy of _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot.

"He and Margaret are apparently a thing now," said Madeline before Oliver could respond. Her eyes were still glued to her book, and her tone was light and casual. "An official thing. He told me yesterday."

"He told you?" Oliver asked, his tone full of concern.

"Of course he told me. We're still friends, and someone has to tell him when he's being an idiot," she replied, turning another page.

"Well he's still being a git. He tried telling me that I didn't know what I was missing," said Oliver. Claire laughed.

"I think you know what you're not missing," said Claire with a grin.

"Margaret has good traits and bad traits, just like all of us," said Richard. "She's has a good sense of humor, and she's bright, too."

"She's also a bitch," said Claire.

"Claire!" said Madeline, but she was smiling.

"I live with her! I can say whatever I want, alright? She doesn't wake_ you_ up in the morning with her stupid beauty routines, and she doesn't keep _you_ up at night coming in and out of our dormitory like it's a tavern. She has no consideration for Penny and I _at all_."

"I happen to think they're perfect for each other," said Richard, and everyone's eyebrows shot up in shock. "Think about it: Margaret Bradbury and Nicolas Tennant. Just... think about it."

For a few moments they did as Richard asked and thought about it. Madeline agreed, actually. Nicolas was in need of a girlfriend who would dote on him at all hours of the day, and Margaret was in need of a similar boyfriend.

"They both are pretty needy," said Claire, shrugging. "I guess it could work."

"What do you know? You thought Cedric Diggory and I should date," said Madeline.

"Cedric Diggory is absolutely adorable and wonderful and perfect, so excuse me for wanting my best friend to date someone like that," Claire said, crossing her arms and huffing.

"Diggory's not perfect, Claire. I tried telling you," said Richard.

"He's perfect _for_ Madeline, just like you think Nick and Margaret are perfect for each other," Claire replied.

"Cedric has some growing up to do," said Madeline. "So drop it. He and I aren't dating and won't be anytime soon."

Madeline opened _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and began reading again, and Oliver, who had been quiet throughout most of their exchange about Nicolas and Cedric, smiled at her book choice.

"How many times have you read that?" he asked.

"Probably fewer times than you."

"Oi, watch the cheek." She could hear the grin in his voice.

"Oliver, how many times _have_ you read _Quidditch Through the Ages_?" asked Claire.

"Well, that depends. Do you mean this year?"

Peals of laughter could be heard in the surrounding compartments, but that didn't keep Richard, Claire, and Madeline from learning that Oliver had, in fact, read _Quidditch Through the Ages _at least ten times since sixth year.

* * *

In no time at all, Madeline was at home with her mother and father. Their home was small, as she was an only child, but it was comfortable. Her favorite spot was the armchair by the fire, and she was often caught reading there late at night when she couldn't sleep. When she arrived, their home was covered with snow, leading Madeline to hope it might snow on Christmas Eve, by far one of her favorite days of the year. Augustus had travelled home with her, as she was hoping to use him to send a few Christmas presents, but he took flight as soon as they reached her room.

At dinner her first night back home, Madeline spent most of the meal telling her parents all about her stressful semester. Her parents had been alarmed to hear of Sirius Black's entrance into the castle but hadn't dwelled on it. Madeline's parents were up to the challenge of helping (and sometimes forcing) her daughter to relax while at home, which included suggesting reading for pleasure rather than schoolwork and playing friendly games of Quidditch with children from the town nearby. Madeline considered taking walks, but the thick layers of snow and icy wind were a bit discouraging.

After two days of sleeping in, reading for pleasure, and only thinking about playing Quidditch, Madeline was happily surprised to be visited by Oliver. They sat in the kitchen drinking hot cider and talking about their coursework.

"Snape's been more vindictive than ever this term," Madeline said.

"It's been pretty bad, all things considered," agreed Oliver.

"I just hope it gets better soon, you know? I don't want to have to fret over his stupid NEWT assignments while trying to actually study for the NEWTs."

Oliver groaned. "We're on holiday. Let's talk about something else," he said.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked, sipping her cider. Oliver shrugged and drank his cider as well. "I hope it snows on Christmas Eve."

"You always hope it snows on Christmas Eve," said Oliver with a smile. "Think of a new hope, will you?"

"A new hope?"

"Yes."

"You mean like my hope that you'll have ginger children?"

"Is that why you think I should marry a ginger? You know, you could just marry Fred or George and have yourself some ginger kids."

"Yes, but I don't want redheaded children," said Madeline.

"What makes you think _I_ want ginger kids?"

"Oh, fine, fine. I guess I will have to think of a new hope since you don't want ginger children. I mean, there's always the hope that you'll get in with Puddlemere, but that's more like a certainty, isn't it?"

At this, Oliver gave Madeline a look that made her feel oddly warm all over.

"What?" she asked.

"What if I don't get in?"

"What if you do?"

"I'll be a happy man," he said, looking at his mug.

"If you don't get in, and that is a massive _if_, then we'll deal with it accordingly. You'll be fine though, whatever happens."

"Will I?"

"Won't you?"

At this, there was a pause that reminded Madeline that she had Cauldron Cakes in the oven. After removing the almost-burned cakes from the oven, she rejoined Oliver at kitchen table.

"I don't want to work at the Ministry," said Oliver in a small voice. Madeline had suspected this for a long time but had never heard him say it. She reached across the table and waited for his hand. Once his hand found hers, she squeezed it.

"I know," she said. "There's more out there than that, especially for you. I promise."

"You can't know that," Oliver replied. He pulled his hand away.

"I can, actually. You're not meant to be some Ministry bloke who wastes his life away in an office, just like I know I'm meant to help people."

Many moments passed in silence; Madeline was thinking of where Augustus might be when Oliver finally found his words.

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

"In this weather? You mad?"

"Please? I need to be moving. I can't sit still any longer, and it'd be worse to fly."

"Oh, alright. Let me go change into thicker clothes. Grab the big cloaks, will you?"

It took Oliver mere moments to pull the heavy cloaks out of the hallway wardrobe, but Madeline spent at least five minutes donning a jumper, pants, woolen socks, and boots. Once she felt sufficiently protected from the cold, Madeline joined Oliver in the hallway. He wrapped the smaller cloak around her and threw the larger on himself.

The snow was falling more gently than it had in the past few days; snowflakes landed on their hair and shoulders as they left the house. They trudged through the layers of snow, leaving prints of their boots in their wake, and were walking almost as slowly as the falling flakes. Though Madeline had always thought of herself as sure-footed, the pathway to town (which was about a twenty minute walk) was frozen underneath the snow, and at one point, Madeline slipped and collapsed awkwardly to her left. Oliver, who hadn't noticed her falling in time to catch her, could only help her stand again. After checking on her well-being, Oliver placed his gloved hand in hers, hoping to steady her feet in the event they encountered more ice.

Madeline realized, as Oliver took her hand, that she was blushing furiously. Oliver, too, seemed more pink-cheeked than usual, but their noses were both so pink that their cheeks looked normal. Madeline wiped the snowflakes from her eyelashes with her other hand, and Oliver seemed to be expertly ignoring those attached to his own eyelashes. After about fifteen minutes of walking in silence, the small town came into view. On this grey December day, the stores were all lit with Christmas lights and decorations.

"I'd forgotten how much I love this town at Christmas," Madeline said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

"I thought as much," said Oliver, his voice low.

"It's beautiful, honestly. Thank you."

"All you needed was someone to walk with," he replied with a smile.

"Someone brave enough to leave the house, you mean," Madeline said.

"Merlin, we're not on about that again, are we?"

"Well, I've been too afraid to leave—"

"Madeline, I hate having this conversation with you," said Oliver as the smile slid off his face. "Because you never seem to understand—I wasn't 'brave enough to leave the house.' I simply wanted to take a walk with you, and I didn't think a little snow should stop us. That's not bravery. Doing what's right, even if it hurts you—that's _real_ courage. So stop with this 'brave' bullocks, alright? I'm sick of it."

Madeline stopped walking. Oliver only noticed when her hand slipped away from his, at which point he thought she might have been stuck.

"Alright, Madeline?"

"You think I'm brave?" she asked, her voice tight.

_I will not cry. I will not cry._

"What? Of course I do. I always have. Haven't I told you?"

Madeline shook her head, her lips pursed and her eyes stinging.

At this, Oliver closed the distance between them, the snow crunching loudly, and placed his gloved hand on her cheek. She met his gaze and felt the same heat that had been accompanying his touch for the past few weeks. His maple brown eyes seemed to be melting her insides.

"You've more courage than I'll ever have, Madeline. You're so…"

"So what?" she asked, her voice thick again.

"Wonderful. You're wonderful. So don't let anyone ever make you feel like you're not," he said, shaking her a little.

"Oliver…"

"Yes?"

"I—"

"Oi! You two going to stand around all day?" The innkeeper's wife, a woman named Elsa, had spotted them from a window of the inn. "We have hot chocolate!"

The next day, Madeline decided to return the favor and visited Oliver at his home. She spent a great deal of time speaking with Oliver's mother, Gwendolyn, who was unfailingly kind. Madeline had often wondered why she hadn't been a Hufflepuff, but she was resigned to the idea that she would never understand the Sorting Hat's decisions.

The days leading up to Christmas, spent mostly in the company of Oliver, passed rather more quickly than Madeline had anticipated. Soon it was the morning of Christmas Eve, and Madeline was distraught to see that it wasn't snowing. With a sigh and a frown, Madeline climbed out of bed and raced downstairs in her pajamas.

Her parents were sitting at the kitchen table with Oliver, and Madeline's eyebrows furrowed.

"Erm, hullo."

"You're awake!" said Olivia. "I was about to come wake you."

"It's not snowing," she replied. "Wait—what time is it?"

"Nearly noon," Henry replied.

"Noon? You mean… half of my Christmas Eve is wasted? Why didn't you wake me? And why are you here?"

"Happy Christmas Eve to you, too," said Oliver. "I was just inviting you and your parents to our house for dinner tonight, since tomorrow we'll be with family all day."

"That sounds wonderful, Oliver. Tell them we'll be there. What time?" Olivia asked.

"Is seven alright?"

"Perfect," said Henry.

"I'll see you this evening, then," said Oliver. He smiled and disapparated.

After a day spent merrily chatting, eating, and reading with her parents, Madeline found herself apparating to Oliver's house alone. She popped right by their front door, knocked briefly, and let herself enter. Before she could close the door behind her, Oliver was walking to her with a glass of eggnog. Her parents were already sitting at the table with Oliver's parents, but the food hadn't yet been touched. Hugs were given and Happy Christmases were exchanged, and dinner was altogether a lovely affair. The food was delicious, and Madeline couldn't remember ever being so content. Muggles going door to door and singing Christmas carols showed up a few hours later, much to Madeline's pleasure. She loved Christmas songs and adored hearing them sung by children. Many of them were donning scarves and thick woolen hats, and while they were singing _O Holy Night_, small fluttering snowflakes began drifting down from the black night sky. Without reservation, Madeline smiled and felt, quite completely, that all was right with the world.

When Madeline's parents left and Oliver's parents went to sleep, and they were left quite alone drinking hot chocolate in their kitchen, Madeline felt her contentment a touch more fiercely. She wasn't stressed about her NEWTs, or her Head Girl duties, or anything, and she could simply sit and wonder about the world. Her gaze was glued to the kitchen window, and she was so captivated by the falling bits of frozen water that she forgot that Oliver was sitting a few feet away from her; she forgot, of course, until he cleared his throat.

She turned to meet his gaze, and he didn't look away.

"I'm glad it snowed," he said.

"I am too," she replied, a smile creasing her face. She glanced at the window and then back at Oliver.

"I knew it's all you actually wanted for Christmas."

"Basically."

"That's why I'm glad. I hope you like your other presents anyway."

"I'm sure I will. All I needed was a few new quills."

"And all I need is for Potter to buy a new broom," said Oliver, his eyes narrowed at the window.

"Aren't we practical," Madeline said with a chuckle.

"He won't be able to beat Cho Chang on a school broom."

"Cho Chang isn't that good, though, is she?"

"She beat Diggory," said Oliver quickly.

"He was also out of sorts and probably too much of a gentleman to knock her out of the way," said Madeline.

"Well, I'll tell Potter to be no such gentleman."

"Oh, Oliver," said Madeline, a smile returning to her face. "If Gryffindor doesn't win the House Cup, I will personally attack Marcus Flint."

"Oh, stop."

"Stop what? Having faith in you? Never."

"You're impossible," he said, shaking his head.

"Me? Impossible? I'd never dream of being such a thing."

"You are impossible. Are you cold?"

"Do you mean in addition to being impossible? Perhaps," Madeline said, nodding.

"Let's go sit by the fireplace."

"Oh, that does sound lovely."

She yawned as she stood, taking her cup of hot chocolate with her, and followed Oliver into the sitting room they had all been in earlier. The room wasn't much warmer than the kitchen, and the fireplace held nothing but ashes. Madeline placed two logs in the fireplace and tried to conjure a fire nonverbally; after two attempts, she was successful. She turned to see Oliver standing near the sofa, staring at the kindled fire.

"Alright?" she asked, moving towards him. His eyes met hers, and he smiled. Madeline's feet stopped walking as though his smile had glued them down.

"Yeah. Better than alright, actually."

"Better than alright?" Madeline asked, surprised. Never, in all her years, had she heard that response from him. When she neither moved nor spoke again, Oliver closed the distance between them. Madeline heard a clock chime midnight off in another room, as if from a dream. She closed her eyes but felt impelled to open them at his touch.

"Happy Christmas, Maddie," he said, his voice full of emotion. His hand met her cheek, and Madeline's eyes seemed to be lost in his, those magnificent brown eyes burning something within her. Hearing him use her nickname nearly made her knees buckle, but something stopped her from melting.

"Oliver?"

"Mmm?"

"You're standing on the hem of my pants."

"Oh, sorry," he said, and took a step back away from her.

"It's alright," she said with a small laugh.

Madeline sat on the nearby sofa and felt another yawn pull her lips apart.

"You should probably get to sleep, with it being Christmas and all," he said, his voice lined with a distant disappointment.

"Do you want me to leave?" Madeline asked.

"No, I really don't. Not even a little bit."

* * *

**Chapter 15: Those Three Words**

"What's there to be scared of? If you care about me, that's all I need to know. You already know how I feel about you."


	15. Those Three Words

**Chapter 15: Those Three Words**

Well, let's catch you lot up, shall we?

"_Do you want me to leave?" Madeline asked.  
_"_No, I really don't. Not even a little bit."__  
_

* * *

There was a brief moment in which Madeline simply blinked.

"Oliver?" she asked, not sure she understood.

"I don't want you to leave. I wish you could stay. That's my Christmas wish. That's my new hope."

"I thought _I_ was the one who was supposed to find a new hope?"

"Well I've found one for you," he muttered, staring at his hands.

"Have you, now?"

Oliver said nothing for a few moments, and Madeline felt her throat run dry.

"Oliver?" she asked again.

"We need to… talk, Madeline," he said, his tone serious. Her eyebrows contracted as he straightened his back.

"About what?"

"It's Christmas," he said with resolve, almost as if he was bracing himself.

"Yes. It's Christmas. So?"

"So we should be honest with each other because it's Christmas, and if you can't be honest at Christmas, when can you be honest?"

"I thought we were always honest with each other," Madeline replied, her face still expressing confusion. She shook her head in a disbelieving manner.

"Well, I've been keeping something from you. I'm sorry," he said. He ran his hands through his hair and clutched his head. Ice seemed to pierce Madeline's heart, which felt like it was beating more erratically than usual.

"Oliver, stop." She took his left arm and pulled it away from his head. With that action, Oliver lifted his head to meet her hazel eyes, which near the fire looked green. "Just tell me what it is. I'm sure it'll be fine. We'll be fine."

"Will we?"

"Won't we?" Without thinking, Madeline gently ran her hand through Oliver's hair, stroking his cheek with her thumb when her hand met the nape of his neck. "What is it, Oliver?"

Oliver gazed at the fire for a few moments before turning to meet Madeline's eyes again. Her hand remained on his neck, which was warm and soft. When he met her eyes, Madeline saw, in a flashing instant, the look of determination and confidence he always had before playing Quidditch, and before she could look away or make sense of this realization, Oliver's free hand was meeting her cheek and steadying his course of action. Her heart began palpitating. He leaned his face in close to hers, hesitated the slightest moment, and then, without Madeline having to think about it, their lips met. Volcanic heat spread through her entire body like free-flowing lava, and Madeline knew she had never been kissed like this before—his lips were warmer and softer than she could have imagined and their slightest movement gave her goose pimples. Her body began moving, almost involuntarily, closer to his. When Oliver pulled his lips away, perhaps to gauge her reaction, Madeline's eyes flickered open in protest. She didn't remember closing them. His eyes were no longer full of determination and bravado; in fact, now, they were quite insecure.

"What did you just do to me?" Madeline asked once she found her voice. He looked to his hands for the answer again.

"I believe I kissed you," he said, his throat dry.

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Er, sure."

"How long have you wanted to do that?" She squeezed his arm.

A smile perched itself in his dimpled cheeks. Madeline's heart fluttered; she could still feel his lips on hers.

"All my life, I think."

Madeline felt herself melting and had a hard time regaining control of herself.

"Are you…" Madeline couldn't finish her next question. She didn't know how. She didn't understand how she could have missed this—how could she have overlooked Oliver for so long?

She shook her head. She didn't want to analyze it just yet; she would save that for later. It was Christmas, and she needed to be honest.

"What were you going to say?" Oliver asked, and she squeezed his arm again.

"Are you… going to kiss me again?" At this, Oliver turned his head so quickly it almost snapped.

"Would you like me to kiss you again?"

Smiles lit their faces. Madeline only had to nod and let the warmth envelope her again.

* * *

Madeline awoke to a deep, chesty cough. She rubbed her eyes and didn't think to question the sound that had awoken her. She was more concerned with why her arm was asleep, as it had become all tingly when she had lifted it to her eyes. She stretched and yawned, and that was when he spoke.

"Have a good night's sleep?"

Madeline whipped her head toward the sound of the man's voice and saw Oliver's father standing there, his face lit with an amused smile. In the corner of her eye, Madeline saw the Wood Christmas tree, and that was when she realised that she hadn't gone home.

_I didn't go home. He got his wish._

She turned to her right to see Oliver lying next to her on the couch, sleeping soundly. She hit her forehead with the palm of her not-tingling hand and heard Oliver's father laugh.

"Happy Christmas, Maddie," he said, and Madeline smiled.

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Paul," she replied, and he laughed again.

"Honestly, Maddie, don't you think it's about time you just call me Paul?"

Oliver made a sleepy grunt as Madeline slowly pulled herself away from him, but he did not wake up. Madeline followed Paul into the kitchen and sat down at the table. She yawned as a thought occurred to her.

"How long have you been expecting that to happen?"

"You used to sleep over quite often before Hogwarts, don't you remember?"

"Well, sure, but how long have you been waiting for—well, you know?"

"Quite a while, will that suffice?" he asked, smiling. "I told Henry just the other day that we may have to arrange the marriage ourselves and just ask you separately to show up."

"Paul!"

"Madeline, there's no use in shouting, honestly."

"And honestly, you've all been hoping we'd grow up and get married? Plotting away since we were children, I presume?"

"Of course we have! We weren't going to pressure either of you, but _of course_ that's what we hoped for. Why shouldn't we've hoped for such a union?"

Madeline couldn't think of a reason. She felt both bamboozled and, oddly, excited. As Paul set a cup of tea before her and she thanked him, she realized that if she had been her parents, she might have wished for the same thing. She felt the same blessed contentment swell in her heart again. Paul joined her at the table.

"Olivia and Gwen worried when you started dating that Nicolas boy, but I told them not to. If it was meant to happen, it would happen, and we couldn't stop it."

"I suppose Claire and Richard have been keeping tabs for you?"

"To some extent, but we try not to bother you lot when you're away at Hogwarts."

Madeline felt like a ton of bricks had settled in her stomach and had built a house there. _Hogwarts_. Hearing the name of her beloved school somehow made it all more real—what would she do when everyone found out? _Found out what, exactly?_ Nicolas would undoubtedly be furious, Cedric might turn to moping, and Claire and Richard would probably fly the "I Told You So" banner over her head for the rest of her life.

"You alright there, Maddie?"

"Fine…."

"You sure?"

"I think so. It'll all work out, right?"

"Did I assume too much? Because if so, I take it all back," he said, a smile on his face. Madeline looked to Oliver's father, who was quite different from her own, and saw in him the man Oliver was to become. Oliver's parents had always been her godparents, and she hadn't really understood why until now. Not only were they friends of her parents, but they were people who could be trusted and who would look after her no matter what. Madeline was so thankful that tears sprung to her eyes.

"Merlin, what did I say?"

She stood and hugged Oliver's father around the shoulders. He smiled and patted her arm.

"We haven't talked about anything yet," Madeline admitted once she was seated again.

Paul nodded wisely. "You have plenty of time for all of that. All the time in the world, actually. Enjoy being young, and enjoy your last term of school. It'll pass quickly, I promise."

"Paul, I have a question, and I'm not sure if I want the answer. Do you think Oliver's chances of joining Puddlemere rest on Gryffindor winning the House Cup?" Madeline asked.

Paul clicked his tongue and frowned.

"It's hard to say. He'll still have a shot, for sure, but his chances will be slimmer."

"But he's been Captain for years—surely that means something?"

"That's what he's afraid of, and rightfully so—he's been Captain for what, three years? And he hasn't won the Cup?"

"I just don't see how they wouldn't take him!"

"We'll see, Maddie. He needs to focus on school, too. You both do."

"We've already studied more than any other seventh year. This upcoming term is going to be madness. I can't believe it's our last term."

"Like I said, it passes quickly. If you both do your best, you'll have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I think we're both afraid our best won't be good enough."

Oliver walked in the kitchen just as his father was about to speak. His gait was loose and groggy, his eyes seemed to still be a little out of focus, and his hair was tousled. When his eyes found Madeline, he smiled and closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms.

"I'll, er, go wake your mum," said Paul as he dashed out of the kitchen. Madeline blushed at his hurried retreat, but found herself smiling at Oliver, who was standing next to her. Before she could speak, his lips found hers. Along with the racing pulse, Madeline was pleasantly surprised to feel herself nearly melting as she stood to press her body to his. Though she felt as light as a cloud, she was fully aware of his parting lips and his strong arms. Oliver kissed her slowly, patiently, lovingly, as though every moment they spent holding each other would double as long as it was spent in bliss.

"Happy Christmas," were his words once they had parted.

"Isn't it, though?"

"I wonder if your parents are worried," Oliver said, his smile slipping off his lips.

"I'd venture to say they're not."

"Did my dad see us?"

"Oh, definitely. He's quite thrilled."

"Oh, really?"

"They will all be, or so I've been told," said Madeline.

"Are you worried?" Oliver asked. He held her in a hug, and Madeline smiled.

"Not so much anymore. But we should, er, figure out what this means."

"For now, I'll be happy to know that you're not planning on snogging anyone else anytime soon, especially at Nick's New Year's party."

"Oh, honestly. D'you think anyone could kiss me like you could? You've been holding out on me all this time," said Madeline. He pressed his lips to her briefly and she grinned. "Tease."

"Who? Me? Never," he said.

"Oliver?"

"Madeline?"

"I _am_ worried. I'm worried about what people will say and think and do, and—"

"It doesn't matter. None of it matters."

"What do you mean? I'm Head Girl, and—"

"And so what?"

"I'm scared," she said, her voice small and her eyes on the ground. Oliver hugged her once more.

"What's there to be scared of? If you care about me, that's all I need to know. You already know how I feel about you."

"Do I?"

"Don't you?"

"Perhaps you should remind me," she said, and Oliver's hand met her cheek.

"Madeline, I don't know what I would do without you. You're all I've ever needed, and you're all I'll ever want."

Madeline felt her smile drip into a thoughtful frown. Though she wasn't inclined to believe anything positive anyone had to say about her, Madeline knew Oliver was sharing with her what he believed to be true.

"Oliver?"

"Yes?"

"I think... well, actually, I mean, I probably know..."

"Spit it out, Maddie."

"Oliver, I hate you."

* * *

**Chapter 16: New Year's Eve**

"Oliver and I aren't speaking presently," said Madeline with a nod and a frown.

"_What_?" Kendra asked, horrified. "What happened?"


	16. New Year's Eve

**Chapter 16: New Year's Eve**

"Perhaps all pleasure is only relief." - William S. Burroughs

* * *

"Pardon?" said Oliver, his eyebrows rocketing towards his hairline.

"I hate you! How can you be so… so…"

"So what?"

"So… _damn perfect_! What do you mean I'm 'all you've ever wanted?'"

Madeline watched as Oliver relaxed; of course she didn't really hate him, but she wasn't happy about it. It would have been easier to remain friends, wouldn't it?

"No!" Madeline continued as Oliver smiled. "No, no, no! You don't get to be calm and collected about this, and you certainly didn't answer my question. How can I be 'all you've ever wanted?' Puddlemere is all you have ever wanted! Honestly!"

"Maddie—"

"And, I don't mind saying, this is all rather sudden, at least for me! I didn't even know I felt this way until a few hours ago, and—"

"_Maddie_—"

"No, Oliver! Let me finish! How could you spring this on me? We haven't even talked about any of this, how could I ever explain what happened to anyone? I'm terrified, and plus—"

"Madeline!" Oliver said.

"I just don't understand, and it's really frustrating to know that you've felt this way for so long, I don't even know how long, and—"

Oliver pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers until she melted, ever so gently, into him. Once she was relaxed, he met her gaze and smiled.

"Hush, will you? I said you were all I ever _needed_, and that much is true. You said it yourself: 'We'll be fine.' No matter what happens, so long as I have you in my life, I'll be fine, and I'd like to think you feel the same way about me. So relax. As I said, none of the rest matters."

Madeline was quiet for a few moments. She smiled and fell into his arms.

"You're wonderful."

"The feeling is reciprocal."

"Is it?"

"Actually, it's not. I've changed my mind. I definitely feel that you are more wonderful than I am," said Oliver as he stroked her head.

"How could that possibly be when you've just saved me from having a panic attack?"

"You panic only because you care."

"You always save me, don't you?" she asked.

"I try. Sometimes Claire has to step in, but hopefully I'll be there for you whenever you need me."

"Hopefully?"

"Well, how am I supposed to help you when you're stuck in that badger hole of yours?"

"You know where the entrance is! I've even let you come inside!" cried Madeline.

"Yes, and you also made me close my eyes as I awkwardly crawled into a barrel."

Despite his being serious, Madeline laughed.

"I wanted to see your arse, remember?"

"Ah yes, with perfect clarity."

"Were you pleased?"

"You denied it then, so I suppose I am now."

Madeline closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and felt her pause grow heavier. She needed to know.

"Oliver… how long have you known?"

"I dunno. That's not a fair question."

"How so?"

"It's not fair because I don't know. I suppose it's been happening for as long as I can remember."

"But when did you _know_?"

"Know what, Maddie? Know that I love you?"

This stunned her, and Madeline felt like an idiot. She realised it could have easily been sudden for him too.

"You love me?"

"Of course I do. What sort of best friend would I be if I didn't?"

"A poor one, I suppose. So then what's the difference between being best mates and being romantically involved?"

"D'you mean other than the romance?"

"Oliver," Madeline said, trying not to smile.

"The difference," he said, taking his hand and moving it slowly down her spine, "is this."

Madeline felt it, too—there was an immediate palpable shift in the feeling of the room. Madeline watched as Oliver's eyes drifted from her lips to her nose to her eyes. It felt like sparks were flickering from his fingertips, especially as they explored her waist. Madeline gulped and thought it sounded too loud. She licked her lips and felt the moisture linger there. She held her breath as Oliver took a step closer and lowered his head, and just as his lips brushed hers, sending a fresh wave of molten adrenaline coursing through her, he turned on his heel and ran out the kitchen door and into the snow.

Stunned and nearly dizzy, Madeline bolted after him with a vengeance. She ran out the door with a shout on her tongue and squealed when a pair of large, strong arms grabbed her from the side. They were spinning and laughing until Madeline lost her balance; they fell in the snow and were still laughing, noses pink and smiles broad. Oliver tucked Madeline's hair behind her ear and as they looked at each other, Madeline realized that her contentment would be incomplete with the man lying next to her.

"I think you're all I ever needed, too," Madeline said. Oliver pulled her closer and leaned his forehead on hers.

"Took you long enough to realize it," said Oliver, grinning. He stroked her cheek again and pressed his lips to hers. A shiver ran through Madeline's body, but she knew it wasn't the snow. "Are you cold?"

"Hardly," Madeline replied, pulling his head closer. She kissed him this time, deepening it almost instantly, and her heart began thumping harder than ever. Neither was dressed for being outdoors in the winter, but Madeline found it hard to concentrate on her surroundings when Oliver's perfectly warm body was pressed to hers. Many minutes later, her brain snapped back into action.

"I think my toes might be frozen," she said, her lips so close to his. She grinned, allowed him another kiss, but he didn't want to part; they sat up, Oliver pulling her closer, and continued to snog. She was straddling his hips, and he was holding her close with one hand, the other lost in her messy hair.

"Oliver," said Madeline, breaking free once more. "Your arse has to be frozen."

"I've lost all feeling to be completely honest, but that's probably because of you. What did you call it? Snogging the living daylights out of someone? I recall you saying you were rather good at it."

Madeline laughed and Oliver kissed her again.

"You're never going to stop, are you?" Madeline asked, her eyes and cheeks brighter than Oliver could recall ever seeing them. Her swollen lips were the only thing he could concentrate on. "Oliver!"

"Fine," he growled, picking himself up and helping Madeline to stand. "Now I know why Nick couldn't keep his hands off you. You're maddening."

Madeline didn't enjoy being reminded of Oliver's having to endure seeing Nick and Madeline kiss, and to banish this thought from his mind, she met his gaze with the most tender and loving look she had ever given anyone. She also pressed her body to his and held his head with her hands. He gripped her waist tightly. His eyes softened, his breathing became erratic, and he gulped.

"Maddie, stop, please," he said, his throat sounding constricted.

"Stop what?" she asked.

"Testing my self-control. _Please_."

Madeline's left hand slid down his chest to his left hip, but before she could make another move, his hand took her wrist in a tight grip.

"Madeline, we need to get inside. Your feet are blue."

Before Madeline could protest physically or audibly, Oliver pulled her (none too gently) back into his kitchen, which was empty, much to Madeline's relief. Once inside, she felt many of her body parts defrosting. Her feet had indeed been blue.

"Thank you. We might've gotten sick if you hadn't been thinking," she said, sitting at the kitchen table.

"You tried to stop me twice. I'm sorry I didn't listen."

"I didn't either, there at the end," Madeline replied.

"Well you know what the solution has to be, don't you?"

"No, what?"

"Well, you see," Oliver said, his voice low, as he moved to close the distance between himself and Madeline, "the only proper solution is to not snog out in the snow anymore, so that we'll never have to stop."

"Oliver," Madeline said, her voice hesitant, "you're… erm... a very good kisser."

"That's not really what you wanted to say, is it?" Oliver asked.

"No, it isn't, even if it's true. It scares me how fast this all happened. What if it all disappears just as quickly?"

"It won't," he said, holding Madeline in his arms.

"You can't know that."

"Oh, but I can. Would you ever give up on me?"

"No, of course not, but—"

"And I would never, ever, _ever_ give up on you. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Do you promise not to give up, though, if I'm gone?"

"Maddie…"

"No, we need to talk about this," she said, her arms crossed. Oliver grimaced, sighed, and resigned himself to agree. He wouldn't win this battle.

"I promise to you, Madeline, that if anything were to happen to you, if I were to lose you forever—"

At this point, his voice broke, and Madeline held him close.

"I promise not to give up, even though my life would be miserable and empty and shallow without you."

"Thank you," Madeline said, and sealed his promise with a kiss. Oliver, who was aching at the thought of losing her, held her in a tight hug for a few minutes.

"We can keep us a secret for a while, if you'd like," said Oliver.

"I don't want to hide it, necessarily; I'm just scared of what everyone will say. To think that Claire and Richard were right all along—"

"Wait, what did Claire and Richard say?"

"They tried telling me, after Nick broke it off, that you and I should… well, date, probably."

"They did?"

"Well, sure. Claire's been hinting at it since first year, honestly. I think Richard knew it was just a matter of time."

Oliver looked off into space, his fists clenched, his breathing growing heavier.

"Oliver?"

"When you were dating Nick, they used to tell me that you'd _never _been happier. When I realized that you weren't actually very happy, and I tried to discuss it with them, they just blamed it on your being busy. When Nick finally did you both the favor of breaking it off, Claire was the one who pointed out that Cedric had feelings for you. Oh! And before we went to the Three Broomsticks, it was Richard who told me that Margaret had been looking really unhappy, and that I should talk to her!"

"Richard was the one who pointed out that you were snogging her!" Madeline said, properly outraged.

"And didn't you say _Claire and Richard_ wanted you to date Cedric?"

"Yes!"

"_Hell_, it was Richard who told me in fifth year that I should date Kendra! Oh, and in sixth year, Claire tried convincing me that Elaine had feelings for me! So why would they be saying, all along, that you and I should be together, when they were clearly trying to have us date other people?"

"That's… honestly, Oliver, I don't know. I remember them briefly asking about you, and once I said that you and I were just friends, like always, they started raving about Cedric. But—oh my goodness! How could I've miss it?"

"Miss what?!"

"When I told Claire that Cedric and I kissed, she was surprised, but when I told her that I didn't have feelings for him, she wasn't surprised at all! _Those weasels_!"

"I don't understand," said Oliver.

"I think they were trying to make us date other people so we could see that we were actually meant for each other," said Madeline, who was stunned as she said it. It all made sense. She stared, gaping, at the kitchen window. "It had been Richard who had dared me to kiss Nicolas last year. It had been Claire telling me that he had feelings for me."

"_Those weasels_!"

"Right?!"

"You know what we should do?" Oliver asked, smirking. Madeline shrugged. "We should mess with their heads."

"That sounds deliciously devious. I'm in."

* * *

Madeline found herself nervously awaiting Nicolas' New Year's Eve party. She was going alone despite usually going with Oliver. She had decided to wear something much nicer than usual: navy dress robes that showed off her figure and fair skin. She also went through the trouble of putting on makeup, which she didn't normally do. All in all, as she sat in her bedroom dressed as nicely as possible, she was acutely aware of her anxiety. Her parents knew that she was not leaving for the party with Oliver, but she had assured them that she would not leave without him; this, along with assurances from Oliver, gave their parents peace of mind enough to celebrate the New Year without worrying. Madeline, however, could not escape such a fate—she had a role to perform this evening.

At 10 pm, Madeline walked downstairs, her wand in her coat pocket, and she apparated from her living room to a few steps away from Nicolas' front door, just in case someone else had apparated in front of his door. A moment later, she was glad she had thought to do this, as Kendra Hurst was ringing the doorbell as Madeline arrived.

"Hello, Madeline! Good to see you!" she said, grinning. She was wearing dress robes similar to Madeline's, but hers was a bright red, which suited her well. "I love the color of your dress. That's stunning, that is."

"Well hello, Kendra! And no, my dress is boring next to yours! Look at you!"

"I went all-out. It's our last year as classmates, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Madeline said, frowning playfully at her classmate. "Where's Peter?"

Before Kendra could answer, Nicolas was opening the door, beaming.

"Ladies, welcome!"

Nicolas ushered the women inside, took their coats, and asked them how they were doing.

"Peter's going to be a little late," Kendra was saying as they entered a large sitting room. "He's had another row with his parents."

It was fairly common knowledge that Peter Stott didn't get along with his parents. It was also well known that Nicolas came from a wealthy family, and his father had been letting him throw New Year's Eve parties for the past two years. Their large house was intimidating and empty, and Madeline was secretly thankful that she couldn't see a future for herself within its hallways and rooms.

"Well that's alright," said Nicolas. "We'll celebrate with him whenever he arrives. I invited most of our class this year."

In the past, Nicolas had been very selective about those who attended his parties. The first time, in fifth year, he had only invited Oliver, Richard, Percy, Claire, and Madeline. Percy had declined, of course, so their numbers were rather low. In their sixth year, Nicolas branched out to invite Peter, Murray, Kendra, Elaine, Margaret, Penelope, and a boy named Peregrine. Peter and Kendra had run off together at the end of the night and have been dating ever since.

"Who else did you invite, Nick?" asked Kendra, who was surely as confused as Madeline.

"I invited Temperance Beauregard, on your word, Madeline," he said, nodding at her. "I almost invited Cedric Diggory, but thought wiser of it."

Madeline laughed brightly.

"You should have! He's a wonderful dancer, I've heard."

"You've heard?" asked Kendra, grinning. "Or know from experience?"

Madeline grinned guiltily. Kendra, sensing that Madeline was hiding something, squealed and jumped, and Nicolas looked at Madeline with a blank expression. Just then, the doorbell rang again, and Nicolas excused himself. Madeline found a few unopened bottles of butterbeer sitting out and helped herself to one.

"_Are_ you dating Cedric? I've heard that there was something going on between you two, but that you were keeping it all very hushed up."

Madeline just grinned, thinking of the irony, and shrugged her shoulders. She sipped on her drink while Kendra huffed and opened a bottle for herself.

"Oh, well, fine, keep your secrets. I'll just ask Claire when she gets here. Or maybe I'll ask you again when you've had enough drinks."

"It's not a big deal, honestly," said Madeline lightly.

"So it's not serious?"

"I suppose not."

"Have you kissed him? I've heard he's a great snog."

Madeline laughed and smiled at Kendra.

"Are you unhappy with Peter?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Then why so curious? There are plenty of good kissers at Hogwarts."

"You know who else I've heard is good?" Kendra asked, coming to sit next to Madeline and smiling in a way she probably thought was sly. "Oliver Wood. If anything ever happened to Peter and I, Oliver'd be the first lad I'd go after. He definitely has the best body, the handsome burly brute. I'm surprised Margaret's picked Nick over Oliver, to be honest. Elaine told me that when she snogged Nick in fourth year, he wasn't very good."

Madeline felt the warming butterbeer flowing through her system and couldn't help but laugh once more.

"Nick's had plenty of practice by now. He and I dated for quite a few months, remember?"

"I suppose so. Do you think Oliver would be better?"

"Oliver and I aren't speaking presently," said Madeline with a nod and a frown.

"_What_?" Kendra asked, horrified. "What happened?"

Before Madeline could reply, Nicolas returned with Claire and Richard.

"Maddie, we haven't heard from you since Christmas! It's good to see you," said Claire with a hug. Richard was watching her intently, and so Madeline had to be completely on her guard.

"I've been spending a lot of time with my family. Sorry. Have a good Christmas, you two?"

"Yes," said Richard simply. "Quite good. Where's Oliver?"

_Always right to the point, that Richard Callaghan._ Madeline tried to look like she felt uncomfortable, which was surprisingly easier than expected.

"I'm not sure," she said, a fake smile plastered to her lips.

"Madeline, what happened?" asked Kendra, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You can tell us."

"I don't want to talk about it, alright?" Madeline said, her voice soft but insistent. She gave Claire, Richard, and Kendra all pained looks and then sat down on a sofa with her butterbeer in hand. She turned to face the grand bay window of the sitting room when Nicolas spoke.

"Madeline, may I speak to you for a moment? Richard, if you don't mind answering the door if anyone arrives, I would appreciate it."

Madeline wanted to ignore Nicolas, but when he extended his hand toward her, she accepted it. She followed him into his kitchen, which was many rooms away from the sitting room. Nicolas turned to face Madeline with a steely gaze after slamming the door shut.

"Oliver told me everything," he said. Madeline returned his gaze with a blank look.

"Told you what?" she asked, trying to keep up the act as best she could.

"He told me about what happened."

"What are you talking about?" Madeline asked.

"Madeline, he told me that you're together now. He told me about the act you'll both be putting up. I don't find it amusing, and I'm assuming Claire and Richard won't either. They'll both be worried sick about you."

Madeline sighed and knew she could relax. If Oliver had told anyone, it would have been Nicolas, despite his being a git. Oliver would feel bad about leading his other best friend on.

"Did he tell you why we decided to do this?"

"Of course. You were both tricked and lead on by them. But they only did it because they care about you both."

"So why are you upset about all of this? It's just a joke, and don't forget—they set _us_ up just so we could fail. You should be on my side."

"I guess I just don't like seeing you like this. And Oliver, he's going to be 'upset,' too, I presume?"

"It's only until midnight," Madeline said. Nicolas growled, throwing his head back in what seemed to be frustration.

"So you're… you and Oliver are…"

"Together," Madeline said without hesitating.

Nicolas' eyes were on the ground, and he was silent for quite some time.

"You should just tell everyone the truth. You, of all people, Madeline… I thought you were better than that."

Madeline felt a shard of ice pierce her chest.

"Nick, oh, you're right, of course. We were just so _angry_."

"I understand, really, I do. It's just… Oliver has always been in love with you. You know that, right? Ever since I'd met him, and probably ever since he can remember. It's always been you, Maddie."

Madeline looked up at Nicolas and he smiled sadly at her.

"That's why it was so hard for us to be together. Part of me knew I was hurting him, and I knew he would never get around to telling you how he felt if someone, especially me, was always in the way."

"I'm so sorry," Madeline said.

"You don't need to apologise. I've always known. Everyone's always known. That's why this—what you're doing out there—would be so terrible. We've all been rooting for you; no one really wants to see you with Cedric or anyone else."

"Nick…"

Madeline didn't know what else to say, so she leapt up and hugged Nicolas, her arms around his neck. He held her close and sighed.

"I just want you to be happy, and I know Oliver will always make that a priority. It was seeing you two together in the prefect's bathroom that did it, to be honest—I could see how clearly you loved one another, even if you didn't know it. That's when I decided to start moving on."

"People were saying that I broke up with you for Cedric," Madeline said, frowning.

"And 'people' will never know what they're talking about."

"Do you like Margaret, Nick?"

"I do, actually. Very much," he said, smiling gently. "Seeing Oliver snog her was strange, wasn't it?"

"I was so confused," said Madeline, laughing.

"You were upset about it, I remember. You just didn't know why."

"Cedric, the poor dear, I remember him saying, 'I don't think Oliver would ever hit anyone over Margaret Bradbury,' or something like that."

"He's right," said Nicolas, chuckling in agreement. "I don't know what I was thinking, having such a huge crush on you. Of course you were meant for Oliver."

"That's embarrassing to hear. I guess Claire and Richard thought Oliver and I wouldn't get there without some help," said Madeline. "Maybe they were right."

"Your feelings for him needed to be challenged to some degree, I believe."

"Perhaps I shouldn't be too angry with them, after all."

"Probably not. Shall we return? Oliver may be here by now."

Madeline couldn't help herself, a smile drifted across her face at the thought of seeing Oliver again. Nicolas led her back to the large sitting room, where there were easily twice as many people. Margaret and Penelope had shown up, as had Murray, Peter, and Elaine. Everyone had a butterbeer, and they looked to Madeline and Nicolas as they entered. Nicolas stepped forward, thanked everyone for coming, and announced that there was plenty of butterbeer and firewhiskey for later.

"What was that about?" Claire asked once Nicolas had been distracted by Margaret. Richard came up to her side as well.

"What?" asked Madeline.

"Why did you and Nicolas run off?"

"Oh. He wanted to talk to me alone. Is that so bad?"

"No, I suppose not. Are you going to tell us what happened with Oliver?" Claire asked, sounding urgent.

"Oi, mates! In ten minutes' time we'll be relocating to the kitchen for some snacks," said Nicolas loudly. He was standing with Margaret on his arm, and she looked thrilled. Before the new couple could kiss, though, the doorbell rang, and Nicolas ran off to greet the next guest. Madeline felt a rush of adrenaline, as she was hoping that Oliver would be the next to enter, but she was nervous too—she couldn't decide if she should continue with the ruse or not. Nicolas had made her feel guilty, but she distinctly remembered how angry she had been at Claire and Richard for all of their tricks. She knew she would have to make up her mind eventually, so she resolved to keep up with the joke, only because she and Oliver had agreed to do so.

After what seemed like forever, Nicolas walked back into the sitting room, Oliver walking behind him. Oliver stopped walking upon meeting Madeline's gaze, as if she had once again pinned his feet to the ground with her eyes. A few moments passed in which everyone was silently watching and waiting, as if his arrival would determine where the pair stood. Inexplicably, Nicolas' words in the kitchen found their way to Madeline, and she thought she heard them quite clearly: _Oliver's always been in love with you. Ever since I'd met him, and probably ever since he can remember. It's always been you, Maddie. _

Despite their plan, Madeline couldn't help but smile at Oliver, at the wonderful man who made her life so much more interesting and comfortable and simply _better_, and in that moment she decided that she didn't care about anyone except him. Madeline ran forward, took his head in her hands, and pressed her lips to his. Though she was sure everyone in the room had gasped or exclaimed in some fashion, Madeline couldn't hear a damn thing—Oliver had responded so well to her advance that Nicolas was worried they might need more privacy. They broke off only at the cheering and cat-calling of their friends, all of whom were laughing, grinning, or jumping up and down, and they were greeted with so many congratulations and questions that Madeline seriously considered disapparating so she could spend more time alone with her boyfriend.

In later years, Madeline wouldn't be able to recall much of that night with certainty. She and Oliver ate and drank and danced with their friends and everyone was in such high spirits that no evil seemed to be able to touch them. When Madeline got annoyed with questions, Oliver would shoo them away, and when Oliver didn't feel like dancing, they would sit on the sofa and talk about anything that came to mind. By the end of the night, it was perfectly clear where everyone stood: Madeline and Oliver were finally admitting their love for one another, Margaret and Nicolas were entering into what looked to be a healthy and happy relationship, and Temperance Beauregard, who showed up thirty minutes to midnight, was properly introduced to her classmates. Claire and Madeline were thrilled for her to be there, and she had struck up a friendship with Elaine—she and Temperance sat and laughed at Murray's goofy rambunctiousness.

At five till midnight, Nicolas directed everyone outdoors, where he and Murray had arranged a display of fireworks for the evening. Madeline was standing with Oliver's arms wrapped around her, and at the stroke of midnight, Murray set the fireworks off while all the couples began kissing like mad—except Madeline and Oliver. He kissed her cheek, and they both watched the fireworks. Madeline grinned; she knew she would be seeing more illustrious fireworks later.

* * *

**Chapter 17: Firebolt Fiasco**

"McGonagall has gone mad, I swear on Merlin's beard! MAD!"

**If you've enjoyed the story, you should tell me! :3**


	17. Firebolt Fiasco

**Chapter 17: Firebolt Fiasco**

If you are reading this, you're my favorite. :3

* * *

Madeline Palmer, as a result of never having been in love before, had never felt the time slip away from her so quickly—before she knew it, she and Oliver were boarding the Hogwarts Express. They were headed to Hogwarts once more; the next time they would be on the Hogwarts Express, they would be leaving for the last time. The finality of their situation hit her pretty hard as she and Oliver sat alone in their compartment waiting for their friends to arrive.

"I can't believe it's our last term," Madeline said as she adjusted her Head Girl badge on her robes. She had already changed because they had arrived so early.

"It's my last chance. Maddie, what am I going to do if Harry's attacked by dementors again?" Oliver asked. He had a grim look on his face that Madeline didn't particularly like.

"Ask Richard if he'll teach him the Patronus Charm. It's supposed to be terribly difficult to master, according to Professor Lupin, but Potter's… I mean, he's the Boy Who Lived, isn't he? And don't forget that Dumbledore was furious about the attack. I'd be surprised to see a dementor anywhere near the Quidditch pitch ever again."

"I s'pose. He still needs a new broom."

"I'm sure he'll take care of it. He wants to stay on the team."

"I've no idea who I'd replace him with," Oliver said, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. Madeline was gazing at him when he turned and looked at her. He smiled. "On the bright side, if we lose, I'll have more time to spend with you."

"On an even brighter side, Hufflepuff's done for the season, so I'll already have more free time."

"I wonder if Diggory will start making a game plan for next year," Oliver said.

"Well if he does, it shouldn't include me."

"Too true."

"I wonder if he'll be angry to know…"

"That we're together?"

Madeline nodded, and Oliver seemed to think it over.

"Something tells me he knew it was coming."

"Nick said everyone knew," said Madeline. She still wasn't comfortable with the idea of everyone being so invested in her love life.

"I mean, it's like Harry and Hermione Granger. Everyone knows it's just a matter of time."

"Potter and Granger? Are you serious?"

"Of course! They're perfect for—"

"Stop, stop. Hermione Granger does _not_ have a thing for Harry Potter. She's totally enamored with Ron Weasley!"

"You're joking. What's she see in him? He doesn't even play Quidditch!" cried Oliver.

"That you know of! Ron's entire family plays Quidditch! I mean, you saw Charlie! Ron probably has a lot of potential. And don't even get me started on that Bill Weasley," Madeline said with a wicked grin. Oliver narrowed his eyes.

"What d'you mean _that_ Bill Weasley—"

Before Oliver could finish his question, Richard and Claire entered the compartment looking relieved to have found them. Madeline had forgiven them without much anxiety—Oliver had pointed out that there was no use in being mad at them.

"Finally," said Richard.

"Peace and quiet," Claire added.

"What happened?" Madeline asked, concerned.

"Well, Nick and Margaret are quite… noisy when they're together," said Richard, grimacing.

"Oh," said Oliver. Richard and Claire slumped into the seat across from Oliver and Madeline, glad the compartment door was shut and all was relatively quiet. "So what did you mean by _that_ Bill Weasley?"

"Ooh, we're talking about Bill Weasley?" asked Claire, with the same grin Madeline had been wearing.

"Yes. You see, Oliver doesn't think Ron Weasley plays Quidditch, and I said with a family like his, he probably _does_ play, and probably isn't utter rubbish," explained Madeline.

"Well if he's anything like Bill or Charlie, or even the twins—"

"Yeah, I mean, we've already proof that he's fairly brave, what with the last two years being so exciting," said Madeline.

"Why are we discussing Ron Weasley?" asked Richard.

"Because Madeline believes that Granger has a thing for him," said Oliver tersely.

"Because she _does._ I'm a woman, I can sense these things," Madeline replied.

"So why is it that you couldn't sense your being madly in love with me?" Oliver asked, unimpressed by Madeline "senses." Madeline narrowed her eyes at him, and he just smirked in response.

"Because most women are oblivious to their own feelings," Claire chimed in. "Hermione Granger won't know she's in love with Ron Weasley until a few years from now. These things take time. _Obviously_."

"Wait—you think Granger and Weasley should be together?" asked Richard.

"Of course," said Claire, and Madeline pumped her fists and wiggled in her seat.

"OK, but Granger and Harry are _best friends_. Maddie, you and I are _best friends_. What d'you lot make of that?"

"I think you've got this all wrong. Ron is Harry's best friend, and Harry is Hermione's best friend, meaning that the only plausible option is for Hermione and Ron to be together!" explained Claire. Madeline nodded, looking triumphant.

"She's right. I didn't end up with Nick, did I?"

"You and Nick aren't _best friends_," Oliver replied. "Maddie, you were with me in the Common Room when you heard them having a row about Granger's stupid cat—those two are bickering constantly."

"Bickering can be a sign of attraction," said Claire, shrugging. "And affection."

"No, no, they're right, Oliver," Richard said, nodding. Oliver groaned.

"Not you too!"

"Well, the difference is that they function as a trio," said Richard. "You, Nick, and Maddie have never functioned that way. A better example would be of me, Claire, and Madeline—I feel as though I'm better friends with Madeline, but I could never imagine dating her. In this case, Madeline is Harry, Claire is Ron, and I'm Hermione."

"You've got to be joking," said Oliver.

"See? Makes perfect sense," said Madeline.

"It also makes a difference that you and Maddie grew up together," said Claire. "Childhood sweethearts and all."

"Oh, Merlin. Where's Nick when I need him?" asked Oliver.

"Snogging Margaret Bradbury to Hogsmeade and back," replied Claire. She and Madeline laughed, and Oliver rolled his eyes.

"She's not even that good of a snog," said Oliver.

"Her snogging abilities don't matter to you anymore, though, do they?" Madeline asked, looking at Oliver with her eyebrows raised and small smile on her lips.

"You ask like they ever mattered at all," said Oliver. Madeline grinned and felt her face grow hot.

"Hey, mates?" asked Claire, interrupting their gaze, which had been growing more intense.

"Is it too early," said Richard.

"Or too late," continued Claire.

"To say I told you so?" they chimed at the same time.

Madeline and Oliver rolled their eyes and grinned, but didn't say anything to refute their friends' words.

Right before the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station at Hogsmeade, Percy found Madeline in her compartment.

"Madeline! Fantastic, you're already dressed. As you may or may not remember, we're patrolling tonight in order to assure that no students are out past curfew on the first night back."

"Yes?" Madeline replied, not sure what to say. There was a moment of silence in which Madeline and Percy just looked at each other blankly. Percy sat next to Claire.

"Well? Did you lot have a good holiday?" Percy asked. Madeline held back a chuckle. The poor dear—he was simply trying to make conversation.

"Perce, you would have known had you been at Nick's New Year's Eve party. This is third year you've missed it," said Oliver. "Nick and I are beginning to think you don't like us."

At this, Claire and Madeline laughed, and Richard grinned.

"The idea of a party in which everyone drinks firewhiskey and loses all manner of dignity does not appeal to me. How many times have I told you?"

"Numerous, I'm sure. But Perce—"

"It's degrading and I'd have nothing to do with—"

"Being young and free? Yeah, we figured," said Madeline.

"Madeline, as Head Girl, you should be behaving with—"

"Dignity? I didn't get drunk, if that's what you mean. And Percy, you'll soon learn that even the most dignified and respectable of adults drink every so often," Madeline replied. "As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember the Minister of Magic being in The Three Broomsticks the weekend before term ended. He was having a drink with McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid, and Rosmerta."

"Surely you're mistaken. What would Cornelius Fudge be doing in Hogsmeade?"

"Checking up on the Sirius Black situation," Richard said. "He and the professors ordered drinks and asked Rosmerta to join them. We saw it."

"Well I'm sure he behaved quite decently," said Percy. He shook his head like he couldn't believe it.

"He sat there gossiping like a wide-eyed first year, yeah—" said Claire.

"I'm sure he has his reasons! Now if you would excuse me, I have to go find Penny before we get to the station."

Percy stood and left in a hurry.

"Well, that was strange," said Madeline.

"Percy's always been strange," said Oliver with a shrug. "I don't know why we keep expecting him to change."

Despite Madeline's reluctance to patrol with Percy, she found that she was quite happy to be at Hogwarts again. After dinner and her patrol, Madeline went back to her Common Room, expecting everyone to be asleep or doing last-minute homework. She was quite looking forward to changing out of her school robes and getting into her own bed, which would undoubtedly be warmer than the drafty castle. As she crawled through the passageway, Madeline heard more noise than she was expecting to. Once she was in her Common Room, her mouth fell open. Most of her House was awake and looking as though they were waiting for someone. Had another portrait been attacked? Was Sirius Black back in the castle again? As she stood in the doorway, her Housemates all turned, looked at her, and waited.

"What's happened? Why is everyone awake?" she asked.

"We've been waiting up," said Peter. He stood and walked over to Madeline, put his arm around her, and brought her closer to her Housemates.

"Why? What's happened?"

"You," said Cedric, grinning. "We never celebrated your appointment as Head Girl."

"I said it was about time someone did something about it," said Elaine. "We never properly celebrated our defeat of Gryffindor!"

"And we can't have our Head Girl thinking her own House doesn't love her," said a third year named Ernie Macmillan.

"You're on the House team and the Head Girl! Someone should have thrown you a party a long time ago," said Murray, who had a bottle of butterbeer in his hand. "I smuggled some butterbeers from Nick's," he added with a wink.

"This really isn't necessary, really," said Madeline, who was turning red. "The new term begins tomorrow; you all should be sleeping."

"Who wants to sleep?" asked a popular sixth year named Melody. Many of the Hufflepuffs booed. "I think that settles it. Party it is, then!"

"Everyone take a bottle! Cheers to Madeline Palmer—the first Hufflepuff Head Girl in ages!" said Cedric, and Madeline felt tears spring to her eyes.

Elaine and Peter wrapped their arms around her and brought her in view of everyone, and Madeline felt that she chose the wrong moment to become emotional. Her House became privy to her crying, and many older students started cheering her name and giving her hugs. Murray passed her a butterbeer and opened it for her. Madeline lifted her bottle.

"This isn't about me," she said, her voice breaking a little. "This is about having pride in our House! Hufflepuff pride!"

At this point, Madeline was greeted with cheering that could rival a Quidditch match.

"Hufflepuff has been overlooked for too long, and yet we're the glue that holds this school together!"

After deafening cheers and shouts, Madeline smiled and continued.

"I want the younger students—all of you—to promise me something," she said, her voice clear and strong. "Promise me that you will be open to friendships outside of this House, because if we don't set the standard for Inter-House camaraderie, no one will. Promise me that you will always remain true to your Hufflepuff roots, to the values of hard work and fairness. And promise me, above all, that you will _always _look after one another. Cheers to Hufflepuff pride!"

"Hufflepuff pride!"

It was a while before Madeline could convince her Housemates to settle down and go to sleep. Later that night, after half an hour or so of singing traditional Hufflepuff songs, a fourth year named Alex Nevins called Madeline the "Hufflepuff House Mom." She was sitting with Cedric, as they had been talking about Gryffindor's chances at winning the House Cup, and the Common Room grew quiet.

"Only if Cedric is House Dad!" shouted a first year Madeline didn't know by name. Madeline's eyes grew wide and many people began laughing.

"House Mom! House Mom! House Mom!" chanted Alex Nevins.

"House Dad! House Dad! House Dad!" was the answered chant.

"But she's _finally_ dating Oliver Wood!" said Hannah Abbott. "Parvati Patil told me at dinner!"

Madeline felt her face grow hot—why was everyone so interested in her love life?!

"They can still be our House parents!" replied Alex Nevins. "No one said they had to get married! Bloody hell!"

Madeline felt that she had heard enough. She stood without looking at Cedric and spoke to her Housemates.

"Listen! I'm Head Girl, which means that I'm basically everyone's mum. As such, it is my unfortunate responsibility to tell you that you all need to be off to bed."

"Awwww, but House Mum—" Madeline crossed her arms over her chest and cut Murray off.

"You want a mother? You now have a mother. I want everyone to be in their dormitories in the next ten minutes, understand? You lot know I don't like taking points off our House, so don't make me have to. We all have classes tomorrow, myself included."

Many good-natured groans could be heard as her Housemates shuffled off to their dormitories. She checked her watch—it was 10:45. The older students were the last to trudge off, and many of the girls stopped to congratulate her on her new boyfriend, including Susan Bones, who Madeline didn't know too well. When she found the courage to glance at Cedric, she was relieved to see that he was smiling. The Common Room was finally emptier and at its normal level when she spoke.

"Everyone's been telling me they knew it would happen," she said, feeling her face grow hot again.

"Yes, well, that's because everyone thinks they know everything," Cedric said, a smile still on his face. "I don't mind telling you that there are plenty of young men who are quite shocked and outraged to have heard such news. Did you see Curt Llewellyn's face when Hannah Abbott announced the news to the whole House?"

"No," said Madeline, thinking of Curt's round, eager face.

"Loads of people will tell you they 'knew it would happen,' when they really had no idea. Don't let them bother you," said Cedric.

"Did you see it coming as well?"

Cedric stared at his hands in a way that reminded her of Oliver, and he looked to the fireplace and shrugged.

"I have a great regard for Oliver. That night he came into the Common Room, and you fell asleep, we talked."

"Really?"

"Very briefly. I could tell he cares about you a great deal. Anyone with eyes could see that."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Obvious that you both care about each other? Of course. When we beat Gryffindor in the Quidditch match, you didn't celebrate with us for a long time. Some thought you went to the Hospital Wing to check on Potter, but I knew better. You were checking on your best friend."

Madeline smiled and followed Cedric's eyes to the fire.

"It seems so unreal. So… well, _obvious_. I feel like a dolt for missing it."

"We are very rarely able to see our own situation as clearly as others see it," said Cedric, nodding. "Well, I better be off to bed, House Mom, before you take points away from Hufflepuff."

"Oh, no, you're allowed to stay up, Cedric."

"And why is that?"

"Well, you're House Dad, aren't you?"

Cedric laughed and stood. Madeline followed suit, watching as he grinned sheepishly. _His signature grin_, she thought. All of the students had gone to bed, even the stubborn sixth years and wise old seventh years. Cedric captured her attention by placing his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm happy for you," he said. Madeline closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"That makes my heart melt. Thank you, Cedric."

Madeline turned to face the Common Room, hoping it wasn't a mess. Thankfully, someone had cleaned, and Madeline assumed it was her prefects.

"Goodnight, Madeline," Cedric said as he walked toward the boys' dormitories. Madeline waved, smiling.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Madeline was greeted by her Housemates, all of whom called her "House Mom." Though she felt impelled to sit with them, she knew Oliver was looking up at her from the Gryffindor table and chose to join him there. She sat next to him and laid her head on his shoulder, his left arm wrapping around her protectively. Claire, Richard, Nicolas, and Margaret were all sitting with him.

"Sleep well?" Oliver asked, and Madeline nodded, her eyes closed.

"What is this we've heard about Hufflepuff throwing a party _in your honor_?"

"Claire," said Richard, exasperated. "We were going to wait until lunch to ask her about it, remember? We had a plan."

"To hell with plans! I'm too impatient for plans! I want to know what happened, and I want to know _now_," said Claire.

Madeline rubbed her eyes, poured herself a glass of orange juice, and explained what happened the night before. She included everything she could remember, from Alex Nevins to Hannah Abbott to Cedric.

"So they call me House Mom now," she concluded.

"That's adorable," said Margaret. Madeline had forgotten Margaret was there, but smiled graciously nonetheless.

"They're just happy that they have someone to celebrate," said Nicolas, nodding wisely. Madeline stared at him.

"Excuse me?" she asked. Madeline saw Richard hit his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"Well, Hufflepuff's not exactly known for having heroes or anything, so…" Nicolas was saying, and as he saw the look on Madeline's face, his words trailed off. "So, House Mom. Are you excited about your new position?"

"They made Cedric House Dad," said Madeline as casually as possible.

Simultaneously, Claire choked on her orange juice, Nicolas laughed, and Oliver stood from the table and walked swiftly towards the professors' table at the end of the hall. Though Madeline was shocked, she watched as he began talking to Professor McGonagall and wasn't worried about his being mad at her.

"That's a new reaction," said Richard. "I've never seen Oliver actually walk away from a problem."

"What's the problem?" Madeline asked, rounding on Richard. "Cedric is a great friend, and he'd make a fantastic Head Boy one day. I'm still shocked he wasn't made prefect."

"But Maddie, you and Cedric don't need to be paired together for any reason. It's just weird," explained Claire.

"It's not a problem. All of the Hufflepuffs know about Oliver and I. Hannah Abbott damn near announced it to the world last night," said Madeline. She finally began eating when Oliver came and sat back down looking furious.

"Oliver, what's wrong?" Madeline asked, placing a hand on his forearm.

"McGonagall has gone mad, I swear on Merlin's beard! MAD!"

"What happened?"

"Is it about the Firebolt?" Nicolas asked, his tone reverent.

"Yeah, it is. I asked McGonagall why she confiscated it, but—"

"Wait, who's got a Firebolt?" Claire asked.

"Harry Potter got one for Christmas," said Oliver. He groaned. "But apparently McGonagall's confiscated it because Sirius Black could have sent it to him, though I honestly don't know how the most wanted man in Britain _could walk into a store and buy a bloody broomstick_."

"What did she say?" inquired Richard. "McGonagall, of course."

"She confirmed that she's got the Firebolt, and she said that they'll be stripping it down to check for jinxes. When I asked how long that will take, she said she'd give it back as soon as possible," said Oliver. He stabbed at a piece of toast until Madeline grabbed his wrist.

"Oliver, your star Seeker has an _international standard broom_. You have plenty of time until you play Ravenclaw! Just wait until he gets that broom back! Harry Potter'll be unstoppable!"

Oliver smiled at Madeline and nodded.

"I just can't believe it. A _Firebolt_! I want to see it in action," said Nicolas.

"Let's just hope that Harry gets in back in time to play," Oliver replied.

"McGonagall wants to win as much as you do," said Madeline, shrugging. "She'll not keep it any longer than she needs to."

Oliver smiled at Madeline again and she patted his thigh.

"Well, let's all hope McGonagall doesn't quiz us on the first day back. Do you think we'll be starting back with Human Transfiguration?" asked Margaret.

"I believe so," said Richard, nodding.

"I wonder if we'll still be working on Untransfiguration," Madeline added. "I only remember that because over the break I practiced turning my hair from brown to pink to brown again."

"Is that why your hair looks darker?" Oliver asked, squinting at and touching her hair. Madeline playfully swiped his hand away.

"Does it not look the same?"

"I thought your hair was more reddish brown," said Richard, who also took to narrowing his eyes at her.

"Ooh, may I try fixing it?" asked Claire.

"No, no, no. I'll be the only one transfiguring my hair today, thank you," said Madeline, shaking her index finger at Claire.

"Aw, Madeline, you should let us try," said Margaret, who was pouting.

"And what, end up with hair a nasty shade of orange? No, thanks," said Madeline.

"You act like we're terrible at Transfiguration! We're not that bad," Claire said as she joined Margaret with the pouting. Madeline laughed and shook her head.

"Not today, ladies. I think I'll be off to class now."

She grabbed a pastry, picked up her bag of books, and walked away from the table. Oliver joined her in the Entrance Hall as she was making her way up the massive central staircase. She was stuffing her face when he caught up to her.

"Enjoying the pastry?" he asked, and she nodded her response, a smile on her closed lips.

"Do you really think McGonagall will give Harry the broom back in time for the Ravenclaw match?" Oliver asked, his faced lined with concern. Madeline swallowed the last bite of her pastry and stopped walking at the first floor corridor.

"I really think she will. In the meantime, you should keep practicing like she won't. Test him out on some other brooms. See if his talent's in his speed or his maneuvering. If gets too close and they still haven't returned it to him, he can borrow mine."

"Madeline, no, absolutely not. What if he destroys it?"

"What use do I have for it? I won't be playing anytime soon, and it's not like I really need it. It'll probably be for the one game, too, if you beat Ravenclaw. Potter'll definitely have the Firebolt back for the Slytherin match!"

"I don't know. I don't even know if that's legal."

"_Legal_? What's illegal about it? What's the difference in someone sending him the Nimbus Two-Thousand or the Firebolt and him using mine until his own bloody broom is returned to him?"

"We'll see," Oliver said as a few groups of students also began making their way to class.

"Either way, it'll be fine. Please don't stress over it," Madeline said, taking hold of his hand. He smiled, pulled her closer, and kissed her. A few younger girls who were passing at the time giggled and ran away.

"You'll be doing that often, then?"

"D'you mind?"

"Oh no, not at all, so long as we're not late to class," said Madeline with a grin. "I have an image to uphold and all. Being Head Girl's not as glamorous as they make it seem."

* * *

**Chapter 18: Betting on Bad News**

"You're right foul, you know that?"


	18. Betting on Bad News

**Chapter 18: Betting on Bad News**

I still love you all! Please review and share with other Oliver-loving friends! Cheers! :3

* * *

A few days after the start of term, the seventh years were indeed panicking just as Madeline had predicted. Each professor gave another speech about the difficulty of the upcoming NEWTs, just as they had last term, but now that their exams were only a few short months away, the reality of their situation was sinking in. Everywhere she went, Madeline heard fifth years and seventh years lamenting their decision to put off studying. Friday afternoon, Madeline and Oliver were studying in the library, and there was more traffic than usual. Oliver thought it was funny, while Madeline was properly annoyed. A loud library was nearly as bad as _no_ library.

"Oh, Maddie, you predicted this. You should be laughing along with me," said Oliver as they left the library to seek solace elsewhere.

"I don't _like_ being right all of the time, you know. I wish I could be wrong," said Madeline with a sigh. "Well I suppose I was wrong about one thing—Nick wasn't the first to ask for my notes. Elaine was."

"Really?" Oliver asked, and Madeline nodded. "Would you rather go to my Common Room or yours?"

Madeline sighed once more. "I don't care, Oliver. I wish there was somewhere we could go to be alone."

"Let's go to my dormitory, then," he said and took her hand. They were standing alone in the fifth floor corridor.

"No, I don't want people thinking—"

"Thinking what?" Oliver asked, perhaps a touch too quickly.

"Thinking… oh, I don't know. Thinking the wrong thing?"

"Maddie, no one will be up there. Most of the younger students are still in class. Let's go take a nap. You deserve a nap."

"Me?" Madeline asked. "Why do I deserve a nap?"

"Because you have to spend a few hours tonight with Percy, patrolling the halls. Because you have to be the epitome of perfect at all times, you can't mess up, ever, and I know it takes a toll on you. You never tell anyone that you're tired, you hardly ever complain, and so, I believe, you deserve a nap for being held to the standard of perfection and meeting it willingly, gracefully, and most of the time, happily."

Madeline stared at Oliver.

"Are you sure we'll even be napping?"

"Not if you keep looking at me like that, no," he said.

"Come on," Madeline said, pulling Oliver towards the Gryffindor tower.

"In a hurry, are you?" he asked, grinning.

"Not particularly. But since you have Quidditch practice this evening and you need to eat before going, our time to nap and do other things _is_ quickly running out."

"Other things?"

"Shhhh."

"Why? Is someone going to hear us?"

"Have you ever heard the saying, 'Even the walls have ears'?"

"No. Is that a Muggle saying?"

"Yes, and need I remind you why?"

"Probably," Oliver said, his eyebrows pressed together.

"The portraits, Oliver. Muggles aren't used to moving portraits," said Madeline, nodding as his eyes widened with realisation and his mouth formed an 'O.' Without another word, Madeline and Oliver walked off towards the Gryffindor Common Room. The Fat Lady had not yet been restored to her post, and Sir Cadogan, who was still guarding the entrance, insulted anyone who came nearby. Madeline was pleased to see that Oliver had been right—there were less than ten students in the Common Room, and none of them seemed to be the nosy type. Percy, however, was coming down the stairs from his dormitory as Oliver and Madeline were headed up. Madeline instantly dropped Oliver's hand.

"Where are you two going?" he asked, his eyes narrowed.

"To our dormitory," replied Oliver casually. Madeline crossed her arms over her chest.

"Madeline, what have I told you—"

"No, no. Don't you go preaching to me, Percy Weasley. You know as well as I do that women can be in the men's dormitories as long as it's before curfew. And don't forget that I have friends in the Ravenclaw tower."

At this, Percy's face grew flushed and he narrowed his eyes at Madeline. He walked away without another word.

"Blackmailing Percy now, are you?" Oliver asked once they had entered his dormitory.

"Yes. I happen to know that he has been in Penelope's room on a number of occasions, so he shouldn't be bothering us anymore."

"Claire?"

"Of course."

"Now, what was that about 'other things' we were discussing earlier?" said Oliver, grinning, as he pulled off his cloak. Madeline set her bag down on Oliver's trunk and took off her cloak as well. She didn't respond, only smiled and began taking off her shoes. A few moments later, she and Oliver were standing near his bed shoeless, sockless, and cloakless. He approached her, picked her up, and set her on his bed. The contact flushed Madeline's face, her smile unconcealed as he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Unhappy about the distance between them, Oliver joined her on his bed and pulled her as close as possible. It wasn't until much later that Madeline returned to her senses.

"Oliver," Madeline breathed. She had paused after realizing she had removed Oliver's shirt from his body. She pulled away, in shock of her actions, but found herself tracing his bare torso with her fingertips. He was lying next to her, his hair disheveled, his eyes closed. She stopped, retracted her hand, and sat up. Oliver opened his eyes at feeling the absence of her fingers and saw her fear. He sat up as well, touched her cheek, and kissed her.

"C'm'here," he said, lying down. Madeline laid her head on his warm chest, snuggled up against him, and fell asleep soon after.

About an hour and half later, Nicolas and Richard entered the dorm, despite having been warned by Percy. Claire had wanted to come but decided to wait downstairs just in case Madeline got angry. When Nicolas and Richard entered, they saw the pair asleep and decided to wake them so they wouldn't miss dinner. Richard didn't want to startle them, but Nicolas knew that Oliver was a sound sleeper. Madeline awoke to the sound of voices, and a second later had a shirt thrown in her face. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and saw Richard and Nicolas smiling at her. When she looked down, she saw Oliver's sleeping frame next to her and she smiled.

"What time is it?"

"Almost dinner," said Richard. Madeline nodded groggily.

"Oliver," Madeline said, shaking his shoulder. His face scrunched up, but he didn't open his eyes. Madeline could tell by the shift in his breathing that he was awake, so she pressed her lips to his cheek. "Oliver, we have company."

"Tell them to bugger off," he said as he rolled over. Madeline giggled.

"Come on, get your arse up!" said Nicolas. Oliver groaned into his pillow.

"Can't a lad sleep next to the lass he loves without getting interrupted _every bloody time?_"

"That's what marriage is for, mate, not school," said Nicolas, who winked when Madeline's wide eyes met his.

"We'll be in the Common Room," said Richard, who pushed Nicolas out the door.

"Alright," replied Madeline. Once the door was shut, Madeline ran her hand over Oliver's warm bare back. She watched as he rolled over and stretched, his entire body tensing and loosening. She ran her hand over his torso again and he opened his eyes.

"You certainly like touching me," he said. His voice was low and gruff, just as it had been a few moments before. She felt a shiver run through her.

"That'll have to wait," she said, finding her self-control and exercising it.

"Oh, no ya don't," Oliver replied, sitting up, kissing her, and rolling on top of her. She broke her mouth free so that a laugh could escape, and his lips began roving down her neck.

"Who's testing whose self-control now?" Madeline asked, her stomach flip-flopping. Oliver didn't reply, he simply continued melding his lips and tongue to her neck, and when he reached one little spot below her ear, Madeline gasped and said, sharply and loudly, "_Oliver!_"

He sat up and removed himself from the bed, all while smirking. He started getting dressed and Madeline sat there and took a few deep breaths. He chuckled.

"D'you need a moment? Shall I dress your feet for you?" he said while shaking her socks at her. Madeline swung her legs over to the side of his bed and he pulled her socks over her feet. Once both socks were on, Oliver's hand continued up her leg until she grabbed his wrist, near mid-thigh.

"That'll have to wait," she said and met his eyes.

"Then stop looking at me like that," he said, his voice gruff once more.

"Like what?" Madeline asked, shaking her hair and leaning back onto his bed.

"You're right foul, you know that?"

"We need to go to dinner," Madeline said lightly as she stood and put her shoes on.

"I'd rather stay in," said Oliver as he tried to snatch her shoes from her.

"So that you can go to your Quidditch practice—"

"I'd still rather stay in," Oliver said, chasing her to the other side of his bed and pinning her there. "Your priorities are out of order."

"Don't turn into Nick, please. My priority _happens_ to be your happiness and health. I need you to eat so you won't be grumpy during your Quidditch practice because then you'll regret being angry with your team for no reason."

"This is why I need you in my life," Oliver said, sighing and shaking his head. He kissed her for a few moments and then they made their way out of the dormitory. "Come on. Let's go before _you_ get grumpy on your patrol."

Madeline groaned as she picked up her bag and made her way towards the Common Room.

"Don't remind me."

* * *

The following week was Slytherin's first match, and they were set against Ravenclaw. Flint had left Madeline alone since Oliver's fist had dislocated his nose, and Madeline had the feeling that he had been spending all of his free time with his Quidditch team. Though Oliver was anxious to see Slytherin play, Madeline was looking forward to watching the match with him. Madeline knew that Oliver would speak tactics while watching; it was something he had been doing for years, and none were too fond of listening to him. Fred and George would rather listen to Lee Jordan, while Alicia, Angelina, and Katie tended to sit with their friends. Harry, of course, was always with Ron and Hermione.

The day of the match dawned crisp and clear, and Madeline frowned: of course Slytherin would be able to play in such perfect conditions. Elaine was coming back from the showers when Madeline was waking up.

"House Dad's already awake and alert. I think he's actually looking forward to watching this match," said Elaine.

"Tha—that's good. He'll need to know how to prepare for next year," Madeline said, yawning.

"Are you going to sit with Oliver this morning?" Elaine asked as she got dressed.

"Yeah, probably," Madeline said, nodding sleepily. "It'll be the only match I can watch with him, hopefully."

"Does Gryffindor still stand a chance?"

"Yes, but only if Slytherin wins. Then Gryffindor would have the opportunity to beat them and win the Cup," she explained. She had heard this a hundred times already.

"Oh, I guess that makes sense."

"Yeah. I'm glad I showered last night because I'm exhausted still," said Madeline.

"Well you should probably get dressed. I think House Dad may be waiting for you."

"Why would he be waiting for me?" Madeline asked as Elaine, who had been flirting with a sixth year Ravenclaw named Adam, began adorning makeup.

"Because he values your friendship? I don't know, Maddie, why don't you go ask him," said Elaine.

"Have you talked to Temperance lately?" Madeline asked while she got dressed in many layers, including her oldest, most comfortable Hufflepuff jumper, on which she pinned her Head Girl badge.

"Yesterday, actually. She said Ravenclaw doesn't stand a chance."

"Surely that's an overstatement!"

"Well we haven't seen Slytherin play, have we?"

"No, we haven't. Oliver's anxious to have this match end so he can know how to move forward," said Madeline as she laced her boots.

"I bet," said Elaine vaguely as she continued doing her makeup. Madeline brushed her teeth, washed her face, and pulled her hair back.

"I'm going to go down and see if Cedric is waiting for me. You want me to wait for you?" Madeline asked as she grabbed her cloak and wand.

"If Cedric is waiting for you, go ahead. If he's not, wait for me," she replied.

"Alright."

In the Common Room, Cedric was sitting and reading a copy of the Daily Prophet that someone had left out.

"Morning, House Dad," said Madeline as she entered.

Cedric looked up and smiled.

"I think I liked it better when you called me Captain," he replied. Madeline laughed, glad to know that things weren't awkward between them.

"Excited?"

"Of course. I'm always thrilled to see a good match," said Cedric.

"You think it'll be a good one?"

"I do. We've seen what Ravenclaw's capable of, and I can't imagine Slytherin being too much better."

"The Slytherins are all talking trash, of course, saying Ravenclaw doesn't stand a chance," said Madeline, frowning, thinking of Temperance.

"Oh, I think they stand a chance. Cho's better than Malfoy, and she's definitely had more experience."

Madeline stopped herself from grinning. She didn't know Cho Chang all that well, but she remembered Cedric having a soft spot for her.

"Oliver said you let Cho Chang fly you all over the place, as if you didn't want to hurt her," said Madeline, her lips twitching from the efforts of restraint.

Cedric blushed, his smile coy, and nodded. He then looked up to Madeline and said, "I won't let it happen again."

"Promise? Cedric, the Quidditch pitch is no place for romance."

"Says Oliver Wood's girlfriend," Cedric replied, scoffing.

"I may be Oliver Wood's girlfriend, but who, might I ask, scored most of our points against Gryffindor?"

"Selena," said Cedric, trying not to smile.

"You prat! It was definitely me!"

"Madeline, relax. You were the only one on the team I trusted to get a Quaffle past him," he said. "You've been playing Quidditch with him your entire life."

Madeline nodded, a small smile on her face. It was true, but it didn't make it any less surreal. If someone had told her at age ten that she would be in love with Oliver, she would have chunked a Quaffle at whoever the offender was.

"You alright, House Mom?"

"Yeah, it's just… odd. I'm still not used to people talking about us."

"Really? People have been talking about you both since I've been here."

"Well, not to _me_," Madeline said. Cedric shrugged, and Elaine entered the Common Room.

"Thanks for waiting, Maddie m'dear!" she said brightly.

"My pleasure, Elaine, darling," Madeline replied, her voice nearing a coo. Cedric glanced between the two ladies.

"Shall we be off to breakfast, then?" asked Elaine with a slight curtsy.

"I suppose so. Cedric, dearest, would you care to join us?"

He laughed, nodded, and followed the two girls out of the Hufflepuff Common Room. Once in the Great Hall, Madeline branched away from her Housemates and found Oliver sitting next to Lee Jordan and Fred and George Weasley. He had a plate of untouched scrambled eggs before him. The twins had their heads together while Lee seemed to be explaining something to Oliver.

"You see," Lee was saying, "you can't ever bet on the—why g'morning, Madeline! You're looking stunning, as usual."

Madeline narrowed her eyes at Lee Jordan and sat across from him and her boyfriend.

"As if I ever look stunning, Lee. So who can't you bet on?"

"Madeline, you are the epitome of stunning, and I think the question you meant is '_what_' can't we bet on, my dear," said Lee. Madeline raised her eyebrows and was about to speak when McGonagall's angry voice met their ears.

"Jordan!" They all turned to look at the professor standing at the entrance to the Great Hall.

Everyone chuckled as Lee slumped over to McGonagall, who gave him a thorough verbal thrashing in the Entrance Hall for Merlin knows what reason.

"What were you and Lee talking about?" Madeline asked, not the least bit abashed. She wanted to know what that troublemaker was up to.

"It was nothing," said Oliver. He started eating as though he didn't want to continue with the topic. Madeline narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend, glanced at the twins, and began eating.

"Temperance supposedly told Elaine that Ravenclaw doesn't stand a chance today. Cedric disagrees, of course," said Madeline in an attempt to start a conversation.

"He would," said Fred as he speared a grape with a fork. "He has a soft spot for their Seeker, doesn't he?"

"I'll wager he does," said George. "Cho Chang is quite pretty. I wouldn't mind having a soft spot for her."

"Yes, but surely Slytherin can't be that good, can they?"

The three boys merely shrugged, and Madeline felt her eyebrows contract.

"What's wrong with you lot this morning?" Madeline asked. "It's Saturday and we get to watch what I'm assuming will be quite a good Quidditch match. Where's your game day spirit?"

For perhaps the first time this morning, Oliver's eyes met Madeline's. George clapped Oliver on the shoulder as they left the couple alone. There was something solemn about this gesture, as if Oliver had suffered a severe loss.

"What's going on, Oliver? You're worrying me."

"I've had an owl from dad this morning. Apparently... Puddlemere won't be looking for any players this summer—they've just recruited a whole second string," he said. He was careful to keep his voice even, as though he wished not to betray too much emotion.

"Oliver—"

"It's fine, Madeline," he said much too quickly. He stood and walked toward the Entrance Hall, and Madeline caught up with him outside.

"Oliver, talk to me, please," Madeline said as she took his hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

"I don't know if I want to talk about it," he said, his voice quiet. An icy breeze stirred Madeline's loosened hair, and Oliver's warm whiskey eyes betrayed how he felt with their redness.

"His information could be mistaken, Oliver. Your father is not omniscient, and there's no possible way to know for sure until this summer, is there? Is there?" Madeline asked. Oliver shook his head, not willing to meet her eyes.

"I didn't think so. This is not the end of the line, either. I know you want to play for Puddlemere, but I know any other league team would love to have you as their Keeper. The Montrose Magpies-"

"Maddie…" said Oliver, his voice strained.

"When will you believe me, Oliver? _You're good enough_. I promise."

Oliver looked up, saw the gentle determination in Madeline's eyes, and nodded. Reaching up on her tiptoes, Madeline kissed Oliver's forehead. There were students walking by, and instead of letting her walk away, Oliver wrapped his arms around Madeline and kissed her properly.

"What would I do without you?" Oliver asked, leaning his forehead on hers.

"Mope a lot, I expect," Madeline replied, smiling.

"This match has my nerves frayed."

"I know. If Slytherin wins, we'll celebrate," Madeline said. She laughed and shook her head. "Words I never thought I'd hear myself say."

"Wouldn't you rather celebrate with the champions, Palmer?" said a familiar voice, a voice Madeline hated hearing. Flint was standing not far off, his team right behind him, all clad in emerald green Quidditch robes. Oliver held her closer, and Madeline pulled her wand from her robes. "The only party Gryffindor will be throwing is a pity party."

"I'd be careful, Flint, if I were you," said Claire, who appeared with Richard and the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. This stunted the laughter of the Slytherins. "Using all of your brain power in one sentence may ruin your chances of winning the match today."

Though there was an outcry by one of the Slytherin bystanders, Flint said nothing. They were all standing not far from the great double doors to the Entrance Hall, and Madeline pulled away from Oliver's secure grip.

"Go on," said Madeline, her Head Girl badge glinting in the morning sun as she crossed her arms under her chest. She stared at him, eyebrows raised in feigned interest. "What were you saying?"

"I'd watch your back, Palmer, and the back of your precious Mudblood," he said, practically spitting. Madeline felt Oliver tense up next to her, and most of the Ravenclaws exclaimed at the Slytherin Captain. Madeline, however, held his eyes without flinching.

"Twenty points from Slytherin. Have anything else to say, or shall I schedule another detention with you and Professor Snape?" said Madeline. Flint scoffed.

"You think you have so much power here, don't you? Just wait, in a few months' time, you won't be protected by your badge or professors. You'll be completely _vulnerable_."

At this, Oliver lunged towards Flint, cursing, and Claire and Richard had to hold him back. Flint smirked and walked toward the pitch with his teammates and Housemates. The whole of Ravenclaw stood in awe.

"Did he just threaten you?" asked Thomas Hall, a Ravenclaw Beater. He looked from Madeline to his Housemates, dumbfounded. "I think he just threatened you…."

Bilius Thatcher, the other Ravenclaw Beater, cracked his knuckles. "Oh, I'll get him," he said, nodding menacingly, his lips in a tight line.

"Who does he think he is… threatening the Head Girl in front of half the school?" said Cho Chang, her tone indignant.

"I hardly think we constitute half the school," said Claire with a small chuckle.

"Who does he think he is to insult Claire Denson in front of the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team?" asked Richard, who hugged Claire. The Ravenclaws cheered in assent, but Madeline hardly noticed. Oliver's arms found their way around her. She hadn't moved or spoken since Flint left.

"Maddie?" he whispered into her ear. "Maddie, c'mon, let's go get our seats."

Madeline nodded, distracted, and followed Oliver down to the pitch, her hand in his. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread twisting in her stomach. Flint was _right_; he was actually on point for once. In a few months, she wouldn't be able to hide beneath her authority as Head Girl, and she would forever leave the safety of Hogwarts. With Sirius Black still at large, this seemed a grim prospect. She wondered if the Ministry would try to recruit her as they had her mother. Was she talented enough to be an Obliviator? Feeling Oliver squeeze her hand, Madeline took a deep breath and tried to forget about Flint's obvious threat.

Madeline sat with Oliver and the rest of the Gryffindor House, but Oliver chose prime seats right at the top of the box so they had a perfect view of the pitch. He began chattering about the direction of the wind and the angle of the sun, but Madeline found herself unable to listen properly. One word was on replay in her mind.

_Vulnerable._

"Maddie, he will never hurt you," said Oliver when he realized she was still worried. "And if he does, so help me—"

"I could turn him inside out in an instant," Madeline mumbled. Oliver smiled, albeit sadly. "He's right, Oliver… we'll be gone from Hogwarts soon."

"And you'll either be living with your family or me. You won't be alone," he said, squeezing her hand again.

"Living with you?" asked Madeline, her dread dissipating.

"Haven't you thought about it?"

Madeline shook her head. She hadn't considered the idea. An embarrassed grin spread across Oliver's face and Madeline blushed.

"I guess I've just been hoping we could, you know, someday…."

"Great. Just wonderful. How am I supposed to spend the rest of the term not looking forward to that, Oliver? Hmm?"

"You mean it?"

"No, I'm only joking. We'd need to get married first, wouldn't we?"

Oliver stared at Madeline, and Madeline returned his blank gaze. He couldn't tell if she was serious or actually joking. After a few moments, Madeline grinned.

"Oliver, I want to spend every day waking up next to you. Of course I want to live with you as soon as possible," she said.

"What if our parents object unless we marry?"

"What if they do?"

"Do you think we could do it on our own?" Oliver asked, concerned.

"I don't think they'll object. They've wanted us to be together since we were tots, married or not. For Merlin's sake, we're only seventeen."

"Oh, right," Oliver said, chuckling. "I forget."

Madeline swatted her boyfriend playfully and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek.

"Only going to snog my cheek, are you?" Madeline asked, smirking.

"You want me to snog you in front of everyone? I distinctly remember you berating Nick for having the audacity," Oliver replied. Madeline was still safely in his burly arms.

"I never really loved Nick, though, did I?" she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

Oliver gently touched her cheek and shook his head, and in front of those bold enough to watch, he snogged Madeline, the sound of the winter wind rushing through their ears and their hearts beating madly.

* * *

**Chapter 19: Celebrating**

"He's so bloody infuriating!"

"You used to be attracted to him," Oliver said softly. Madeline turned to him, furious.


	19. Celebrating

**Chapter 19: Celebrating**

This chapter took a little while because I reread and edited the last eighteen chapters. So if you reread the chapters (idk if you guys do that), and you notice changes to the dialogue/exposition/chapter titles, it wasn't an accident and you're not crazy. ;) Please remember that I own none of J.K. Rowling's wonderful world, especially her exact words, some of which you may find in this chapter.  
Thank you for reading. All my love, Kathleen. :3

* * *

Madeline and Oliver were in the library on Sunday morning, once again, trying to study for the NEWTs. This particular Sunday morning, they hadn't gotten much accomplished—for the first half an hour they snogged in a corner until Madeline forced them to regain their self-control, and the next two hours they were continually being interrupted by friends and nagging prefects. Nicolas joined them around 11 am, and after only ten minutes of silently trying to review Madeline's notes, he had something irritating to say. He looked up, considered the couple, and spoke.

"I'm sensing a lot of sexual tension between the two of you," he said. Madeline and Oliver both met his gaze, their expressions matching: disbelief, shock, horror. He smirked.

"Yes, I thought as much. Listen, on weekdays, Percy and I both are never in the dormitory from 3 pm to dinner because we're both always in the Ravenclaw tower, which is the perfect place to snog, surprisingly. I thought it would be nothing but bookworms shushing people all over the place, but most of them come here instead."

"Nick," Madeline said sharply. "What d'you want?"

"I only want my two closest friends to be happy. Well, alright, I might also want to be the one who convinces you both to finally—"

"Mate, stop," said Oliver, sighing. Had Oliver already heard this speech from Nicolas?

"But Oliver, you'd be better off if you both—"

"_Nicolas_. We are _not_ having this conversation," said Madeline forcefully. She had already been agitated, and now she was growing angry. Nicolas gazed at the pair of them and shrugged.

"I don't see why you're being so obstinate about all this. We're talking about a perfectly natural part of existence. If you weren't attracted to each other, I'd be genuinely concerned. As it is, I happen to know that you are both going mad over one another, and it's about time someone called you out on it. I saw you both at the pitch yesterday, and I know you don't want to hear this, but for the love of Merlin, _please just_—"

"Nick! We're _fine!_" said Madeline. Unconvinced, Nicolas turned to Oliver, who was staring at his parchment. He said nothing in defense or denial.

"Alright, if you're both so _fine_, go study in our dormitory. You won't be bothered, I assure you," said Nicolas. He began packing his things.

"Where're you going?" Madeline asked with a huff.

"I'm going to the Ravenclaw tower to study with Margaret. At least if she looks at me the way you two have been looking at each other, I won't be in denial about what it means."

As Nicolas strode off, Madeline slammed a book down on the table.

"He's so bloody infuriating!"

"You used to be attracted to him," Oliver said softly. Madeline turned to him, furious.

"_So?!_"

Oliver said nothing, which was smart, because Madeline was ready to be angry about anything. She started huffing, collecting her things, and stuffing her bag.

"Are we leaving?"

"Yes."

"Why are we leaving?"

"To prove that blasted idiot wrong," she said, her tone still angry. Oliver stood and placed a hand on Madeline's arm, and her body felt like it was lit ablaze.

"Is he wrong?" Oliver whispered, closing the distance between them. Madeline met his eyes, goose pimple prickling her skin. Madeline recalled her promise to him the day before: _If Slytherin wins, we'll celebrate._ Something in her chest throbbed, and suddenly her words took on a whole new meaning.

"We never properly celebrated yesterday, did we?" asked Madeline, her voice quiet. She avoided his eyes and finished packing his bag for him.

"No, I suppose we didn't." Madeline handed Oliver his bag, slung hers over her shoulder, and they left the library to once again find relief elsewhere.

"Is this becoming a habit of ours?" Oliver asked, taking her hand and squeezing it. She didn't respond. "Maddie, what's the matter?"

"I'm irritable," she said.

"Yes, I'd noticed. I was wondering if you could tell me why?"

"Because Nick's an irritating arsewipe."

"What's new? Is there anything else?"

"And because I still feel under prepared for the NEWTs, I'm worried about getting all of my homework done, patrols with Percy are more annoying than ever because I blackmailed him so he would leave us alone, I'm scared that Black's going to pop up and attack me, and I keep having nightmares about you dying," she replied, the last line merely a whisper.

"What was that last bit?"

"I keep having nightmares," Madeline said, her voice only slightly louder.

"About me?"

"Dying, yes."

"Maddie…" he said with a sigh.

"Look, Oliver, it's not a big deal, I'm sure they'll go away eventually. They're only dreams, after all. I'm just glad I haven't been dreaming of Sirius Black or Flint." Madeline thought it was a bit funny that Flint was always on the same level as the mass-murderer.

Oliver didn't reply, and they kept walking to the Gryffindor Common Room. Once there, Madeline was slightly embarrassed to see that the room was full of students catching up on homework and spending time with their friends. She noticed that Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were lacking the third member of their trio but didn't think too much of it. Without hesitating, Oliver led Madeline up to his dormitory, which was thankfully empty. Madeline began (what was becoming a routine of) removing her shoes, socks, and cloak and laying them on Oliver's trunk. She liked that the Gryffindor dormitories were in the tower only because it kept them away from the noise of their Common Room. In the Hufflepuff dormitories, if you were too close to the Common Room, all you could do was perform the _Muffliato_ charm and hope for the best.

Madeline lied down on Oliver's bed and closed her eyes. The dreams she had been having, along with all of her other responsibilities, were slowly driving her mad. This was the real reason she had been so furious with Nicolas (other than his audacity, but the poor Gryffindor couldn't help that)—he was right in that she was going mad, just not for the reason he thought. Oliver didn't lie down, and Madeline opened her eyes to see him pondering something.

"Yes?"

"Will you get cold if I don't turn the bed down?"

Madeline considered him but didn't immediately reply. He wanted to know, essentially, if she would rather be under his sheets or on top of them, and she wasn't sure she knew the answer. Though it was cold in his stone-walled dormitory, and her toes were already feeling the chill, she knew that he had a sufficient amount of heat radiating from him to keep her warm. Madeline found herself imagining what would happen in either scenario, and each possibility led to the image of Oliver shirtless.

_Damnit._

Without a word, Madeline stood and allowed him to turn the bed down. They then joined one another on the small four-poster, and Oliver threw an arm over her waist.

"Tell me about the dreams," he said, looking at her with concern. Snuggled up close to him, Madeline closed her eyes and thought through the best way to explain.

"They all start off… relatively normal. In the first dream, we were playing Quidditch on the pitch, and as we were flying, you got hit by a rogue Bludger, fell about one hundred feet and died. In the second dream, we were on a beach somewhere, and then we weren't, we were in some forest, and you were mauled by a werewolf. In the third dream—"

"There are three?" Oliver asked, alarmed.

"Mhmm. In the third dream, we were back at the pitch again, except that... well, Hogwarts was sort of… on fire."

"A massive stone castle was on fire?"

"_Oliver_," said Madeline.

"Right, sorry, go on."

"Well, the castle was being attacked, and there was fire everywhere, and out of nowhere, there were people with black cloaks flying behind us and trying to kill us."

"Did they succeed?"

"I don't know; I woke up before anything else happened. I just remember being really terrified."

"You're not going to lose me," Oliver said, kissing her forehead.

"You don't know that," replied Madeline a bit fiercely. "And I recall saying the same thing to you once, and how did you respond?"

"Poorly. But Maddie, they're just dreams. Try not to dwell on them. You have a lot on your mind without having to worry about my safety, especially my safety on a broom."

Madeline nodded. She would worry despite his words of comfort, but he probably knew that. _You panic only because you care_, he had once said. Feeling mollified (if not completely comforted), Madeline gave him a brief kiss, and the usual sensation of breathlessness came over her. As Oliver pulled her closer for another kiss, Madeline saw nothing but tenderness in his gaze. No, despite what Nicolas thought, Madeline knew that neither of them were in any hurry. They had forever.

* * *

The weeks slid by, as they do when one is busy, and soon it was February. The weather was still frigid, and no one liked being outside longer than necessary, yet Oliver was making Gryffindor practice five nights a week in order to prepare for the match against Ravenclaw. Madeline therefore hardly saw her boyfriend at night, but this didn't bother her much, as she had so much going on anyway. The prefects were causing all sorts of trouble with trying to swap patrol shifts, and there were numerous reports of prefects skiving off shifts, so that Percy and Madeline were holding weekly meetings to coordinate their schedules and try to enforce the rules. During one meeting towards the middle of February, Madeline was so sick of dealing with their problems that she shot sparks into their air with a _bang _and spoke:

"You listen very carefully, all of you," Madeline said in a deadly low voice. "The next person who skives off a patrol will subsequently lose their prefect badge, privileges, and responsibilities. You are replaceable, all of you. Even Percy and I are replaceable. You all have responsibilities, and if you cannot fulfill them, I suggest you quit. If Percy and I hear another rumor about someone abusing their privileges, I will replace _all of you_. You see, as a Hufflepuff, I do not discriminate."

All of the fifth and sixth year prefects stared at her with wide, frightened eyes. The room was silent.

"If you have a problem with the schedule, find someone to trade shifts with you. Percy and I are _not_ _your nannies_. Sort your problems out on your own, and come to us when there is an impasse or an actual problem. If you can't fit your patrols into your busy schedule, you need to resign. Dumbledore and your Head of House will gladly give us someone with more time on their hands. Have I made myself clear?"

The prefects nodded their assent, their eyes still wide. Madeline dismissed them, and they all left more quickly than usual, even Penelope and Richard. After they were all gone, Percy rounded on her.

"Look," she said before he could speak, "I was sick of dealing with their stupid—"

"Thank you," Percy said, interrupting her. "That's precisely what needed to be said. Thank you."

Madeline smiled at Percy.

"I don't usually like threatening anyone, but they've been terrible all year. And do know that I spoke with McGonagall about this. I asked her at breakfast this morning if she'd be willing to replace one of her fifth year prefects if they weren't doing their job, and she said 'of course.'"

Percy nodded, and Madeline was grateful.

"Well handled, Madeline. I don't think we'll have any further problems," said Percy, looking at his Head Girl proudly.

Percy was right—after that meeting, they had no problems with any of their prefects. Madeline only wished she would have given that speech earlier in the school year.

There was good news and bad news as the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw matched approached. Cho Chang had been injured during the game against Slytherin (which, Madeline was sure, was the only way Draco Malfoy had been able to catch the Snitch before her), and Cedric was spending a lot of time in the Hospital Wing, much to Madeline's delight. Oliver, of course, was thrilled about her being injured, but when news came round that she was fit to play against Gryffindor, he became worried again. As the match grew ever closer, Oliver began driving everyone, even the professors, bloody bonkers.

"Oliver," scolded Madeline at breakfast one morning, "_leave McGonagall alone_."

"What if she doesn't give Harry his broom back in time? There's only a week left before the match, and I don't know—"

"No, stop. I've told you, she wants Gryffindor to win as badly as you do. Now leave her be. We don't need a reason for her to be irritable with any of us."

Madeline was right, of course—Professor McGonagall returned the Firebolt to Harry Potter a few days before the match against Ravenclaw, and the entire House of Gryffindor was clamoring to see it in action. The Ravenclaws were much less enthused by the new broom's arrival, but they were delighted to have Cho Chang back in good health.

When the morning of the match finally arrived, Madeline got ready much earlier than usual and made her way to the Gryffindor Common Room. Sir Cadogan took notice of her House attire (as she had donned her Hufflepuff jumper and scarf), but when she gave the correct password, he let her enter. Just as she expected, the Common Room was empty—except, she quickly noticed, for one person occupying the largest couch. Her heart fluttered impatiently as she recognised the back of his head, and when he turned to see who had entered the room, they both grinned. Of course he was awake.

She made her way to Oliver quickly, and he stood to receive her in his arms. She wouldn't see him for most of the rest of the day, depending how long the match lasted. When his arms finally made their way around her, she sighed. She never felt more at home than there.

"Did you sleep at all?" Madeline asked as he took his seat and positioned her on his lap. She touched his face—first his eyelids, then his cheeks, then his lips—and kissed him before he could respond. He broke away to smile and respond.

"Not as much as you would have liked. I wish you could have stayed with me."

"Would you have slept better?"

"Indefinitely," he replied. Madeline thought this to be a pity—surely if she stayed with him, and he slept better, his chances of winning would be greater?

"Well, let me make a deal with you," she said.

Oliver's eyebrows shot up and Madeline grinned. She didn't know what was making her feel so bold, but whatever it was, she liked it.

"A deal?"

"Yes, a deal," she said.

"Well, spit it out, what are you thinking?"

"If you beat Ravenclaw in your match today, Oliver Wood, I will break the school rules and stay with you the night before the Slytherin match."

Oliver's mouth fell open, his jaw completely slack. He stared at her for a moment, perhaps lost in the idea of such a wonderful scenario.

"Maddie… are you serious?"

"On my honor, I am serious. If you win today—if Gryffindor defeats Ravenclaw—I will sleep _in your bed with you_ the night before the last match. I would want you to be fully rested before taking on those Slytherin trolls."

"But you could… if you were caught…"

"I daresay they would let me take my NEWTs, even if I lost my Head Girl title," she said, shrugging. Honestly, losing the responsibilities wouldn't break her heart. Oliver losing the House Cup after all his hard work, however, might.

"Madeline, I'm not agreeing to this. It's not worth it, despite how… wonderful it would be."

"They're not going to expel me. Percy and I have had to punish at least ten students this year for the same crime. They each got detentions and were banned from the Common Room and dormitories in question. And though Percy would object on principle, I don't think he'd actually turn me in."

Oliver mulled this over for a few moments, and Madeline laid her head on his chest, which was always warm. When he came to a decision, he lifted Madeline's head and looked her straight in the eyes.

"You're serious? This is a real offer, with acceptance of consequences and everything?" he asked, his gaze firm. Madeline nodded.

"If we win today, I would get to wake up next to you on what could be the most important day of my life?"

Madeline smiled, her heart melting. "_Yes._"

"Deal accepted," he said, and they kissed again.

"You just have to get past Roger Davies and his team first," said Madeline.

"Oh—you haven't seen that Firebolt in action, yet," Oliver said, grinning. "Come see it at breakfast, and bring Diggory. I'm sure he'll want to see it."

"I will. So do you want your good luck kiss now or at breakfast?"

"If I choose now, will it turn into a good luck snog?"

"Potentially."

"I choose now."

Madeline left for the Great Hall before Oliver did, as he was waiting for his teammates. She was thankful to see Elaine at the Hufflepuff table and sat across from her. Madeline asked about Adam, to which Elaine blushed and grinned. By the time Oliver and the rest of the Gryffindor House team arrived, Cedric, Peter, and Murray were all sitting around Elaine and Madeline.

"Is that it—is that the Firebolt?" Peter asked, turning his head to catch a glimpse of it as Harry Potter walked in with a guard of at least five other Gryffindor boys.

Madeline chuckled at seeing Harry Potter looking so delighted. Murray and Peter wanted to go look at it right away, but Madeline held them off, telling them to have patience, as there were already a queue around the Firebolt and its owner. Unable to keep them away for long, Murray and Peter rushed over to look at the international standard broom. Madeline shook her head and frowned good-naturedly. After the largest rush had dissipated, Madeline decided she would then go.

"So there it is," Madeline said as she and Cedric reached the Gryffindor table. The Firebolt was lying in the center of the table, its name facing up, and many were admiring it with glazed looks in their eyes, as if they were picturing themselves as the owner.

"It looks brilliant," said Cedric. He had an impressed look on his face as he spoke to Harry Potter. "Congratulations on the superb replacement for your Nimbus. I'm sure you're thrilled."

"Oh yeah," said Potter, his smile broad. His tall best friend, Ron Weasley, was still ogling the broom. Cedric offered them good luck and returned to the Hufflepuff table as Madeline wrapped her arms around Oliver's neck, her hands resting on his broad chest.

"Don't forget our deal," she said quietly, kissing his cheek. Oliver grinned, his hands on hers.

"Oh, I'll not forget."

Nicolas had apparently been listening despite having a conversation, because he turned away from Lee Jordan and said, "What deal? What are you two talking about?"

"It's nothing," Oliver said, failing miserably at hiding his grin.

"They're hiding something, those two are," said Lee Jordan, his eyes narrowed.

"Well it certainly is no concern of yours," said Madeline firmly to Nicolas.

"I want to know! When did you two strike a deal? And what for?!"

Madeline grinned, kissed Oliver on his lips, and wished him luck.

"Oliver, mate, what's she going on about—" Nicolas said as Madeline walked away from the Gryffindor table.

"As she said, it's no concern of yours," she heard Oliver reply.

As the match time grew closer, more students entered the Great Hall, and by a quarter to eleven, they were all making their way down to the Quidditch pitch. It was a wonderful day for Quidditch, if not a bit chilly, and Madeline envied those playing. Cedric accompanied her down to the pitch, along with his best mate, another fifth year named Brian Woolsey. Madeline wasn't too fond of Woolsey, as he had been one of the prefects about whom she had received worrying reports, and she wished Cedric had been given the responsibilities in his place. Once in the Hufflepuff stand, which Madeline was sitting in a little grudgingly (she wished to be sitting with Richard and Claire or even Nicolas and the Gryffindors), Brian Woolsey abandoned Madeline and Cedric for Susan Bones' company.

"Do you think they're all nervous?" Cedric asked, and Madeline shrugged.

"Perhaps... but you know how it is—once you're flying, you forget why you were ever nervous to begin with."

"Too right," Cedric replied. "It's going to be interesting to see Potter and Cho set against each other; they're both brilliant."

As the teams walked onto the field, they were greeted with thunderous applause. Madeline cheered along with the Gryffindors, even if she was in the Hufflepuff stand. It wasn't uncommon for the Hufflepuffs to side with the Gryffindors, especially during Quidditch.

The match began, the commentary being provided by Lee Jordan, who wouldn't shut up about Potter's new broom. Professor McGonagall scolded him numerous times.

The match was just as exciting as everyone had anticipated—Potter's Firebolt truly was putting Cho Chang's broom to shame, but she was such a good flier that it hardly mattered. She marked Potter rather than searching for the Snitch on her own, and according to Cedric, this was smart on her end.

"Potter doesn't wait for the Snitch to come to him, he goes out and looks for it," Cedric was saying loudly as Katie Bell scored the first goal of the game. "Though his broom is better, if she can out-fly him when they find the Snitch, she could win the game."

Madeline nodded and just as she looked over to check on Oliver, Cedric grabbed her arm and pointed in the direction of the ground.

"Potter's seen the Snitch!" he shouted, and everyone watched as Potter dove towards the ground—just as he nearly reached it, however, a well-sent Bludger made him steer off course and miss the Snitch. There was a great sigh of disappointment, and the match resumed some semblance of normalcy.

Though Cedric was content to watch Chang and Potter, Madeline grinned as she watched Oliver defending his goalposts. Gryffindor was soon up eighty points to Ravenclaw's zero, and Madeline was jumping with excitement. The Ravenclaw Keeper was not on his game today, but Madeline knew Oliver's Chasers—Katie, Alicia, and Angelina—to be very well trained. Eventually, Ravenclaw began catching up on Gryffindor's lead, as Oliver missed three goals. The match was still blazing, Bludgers flying in all directions and Cho Chang still tailing Harry Potter.

For the second time, Potter saw the Snitch, and just as he nearly reached it, Chang flew into his path and he hurtled in a different direction, afraid to hit her. Then, from the Gryffindor end of the field, Madeline heard Oliver's voice.

"HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN! KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!"

Madeline's mouth fell open and she heard Cedric laughing.

"That's precisely what she did to me! She's brilliant!"

Madeline found herself laughing along with him after remembering the conversation she had had with Oliver over Christmas break. Cho Chang grinned and began following Potter once again. After feigning a dive, which Chang followed, Potter saw the Snitch for the third time, and he pelted down to the Ravenclaw end of the field. Chang sped off after him, despite being below him after following his fake dive, but Madeline didn't think she could catch up with him. She looked ahead, her hand grasping Cedric's cloak sleeve, to see three large, hooded figures standing near the end of the pitch. Frightened that dementors had returned, Madeline gasped and watched as Potter, while chasing the Snitch, performed the Patronus Charm. His aim was perfect, and the hooded figures tumbled over to reveal four Slytherin boys. Madeline missed as Potter caught the Snitch, as she was already making her way down towards the field. Soon everyone else was following suit. The Gryffindors were all huddled together and cheering on their Seeker, but Madeline jogged over to edge of the pitch where Professor McGonagall was standing over Flint, Malfoy, and Malfoy's two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. They were all still trying to extricate themselves from their massive black robes, and Madeline glowered as the Deputy Headmistress spoke, her voice broken waves a fury, and her thin lips pressed so tightly Madeline couldn't see them.

"An unworthy trick!" she was shouting. "A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!"

At this point, many Gryffindors, including Professor Lupin, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter, had walked over to see what was happening. Potter had a triumphant look on his sweaty face, and Madeline had never seen Professor Lupin looking more proud. Had he taught Potter how to perform the Patronus Charm? Before she could make further assumptions, Madeline saw Oliver disentangling himself from the massive crowd and running to her, his face just as sweaty as Harry Potter's. The twins were shouting about a party in the Gryffindor tower as Oliver practically tackled her.

"We did it! We did it!" he shouted multiple times. Madeline found his energy to be infectious. "We won!"

"You were all brilliant!" Madeline exclaimed. At hearing this affirmation, Oliver lifted Madeline into the air and spun her around. After a few well-deserved kisses, Oliver led Madeline back to the castle with the rest of the school. Oliver raved about the game the entire way back.

"I'm so proud of Harry, he's brilliant, just brilliant—and I can't believe I missed that one goal, my fingertips grazed it—but the third goal, I swear they were stooging, because Mullins and Crawford were both in the scoring area at the same time!"

"It doesn't matter! Oliver, you were wonderful! You'll get to play Slytherin! You know what that means?" Madeline said, grinning and shaking his large arms. They were making their way to the Gryffindor Common Room, and upon hearing Madeline's words, he ducked into an empty classroom and pulled Madeline with him. He took out his wand, which he had strapped to his chest (presumably as Potter had), and locked the door. Before Madeline could express her confusion, Oliver took Madeline in his arms and kissed her with fervor. He backed her into a wall, removed her cloak and then pulled her jumper off—Madeline was thankful to be rid of the hot, bulky items and felt herself pressed against his body more clearly. Adrenaline was coursing through their bodies, and Madeline was so engrossed that she nearly forgot everything—until, that is, someone tried to open the door.

Oliver and Madeline froze, and they heard the door handle jiggle again. Reacting quickly, Madeline collected her sweater and cloak, pulled out her wand, and cast a disillusionment charm on each of them nonverbally. Though she wasn't an expert at charms, she was thankful Nicolas had taught her such a useful one as this. She was even more thankful that she had practiced performing it nonverbally. As Madeline heard someone spoke, she and Oliver backed into a corner to wait.

"Move out of the way," hissed a woman's voice. "_Alohomora!_"

The door opened, and despite being mostly disguised, Oliver's hand found hers silently.

And then walked in the most unlikely pair Madeline could have imagined.

* * *

**Chapter 20: Homenum Revelio**

"Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

"Let's start with that Mudblood you've been fancying for five or so years, shall we?"


	20. Homenum Revelio

**Chapter 20: Homenum Revelio**

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. :3

* * *

And then walked in the most unlikely pair Madeline could have imagined: Temperance Beauregard and Marcus Flint.

_Temperance and Flint?!_

Madeline's mouth fell open, and it was all she could do to remain utterly silent. Oliver squeezed her hand and she remembered that she was not alone.

"Flint, this better be quick. I have things to be doing," said Temperance as she plopped down on the desk near the front of the room. She looked impatient, but haughtily so. It was then, in this moment, that Madeline discovered Temperance Beauregard to be extremely beautiful. She had never really thought much of it, but seeing her glare at Marcus Flint, who was baring his awful teeth in an attempt to smile, Madeline saw her clearly—Temperance's long, shiny black hair was full in a way that Madeline's could never hope to be, and her ivory skin only accentuated her pale blue eyes and perfectly symmetrical facial features. She was tall and willowy, too, as any beautiful woman ought to be, and she reminded Madeline of the sculpture of Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Yes, I know," said Flint in an unctuous tone she had never heard from him. "Homework?"

"Among other things," Temperance replied, her tone still expressing disinterest and impatience. "Now, what was so important that you had to follow me all the way up here?"

"Well, I've been meaning to speak with you, and Pansy Parkinson told me you were headed to the library."

Temperance scoffed. "Pansy Parkinson. She's such a tedious brute."

"Regardless, we're here, so let's talk," said Flint, who stood a respectful distance away from his Housemate.

"Fine. What do you want to talk about, Flint?"

"Let's start with that Mudblood you've been fancying for five or so years, shall we?"

The blood seemed to drain from Temperance's face and she became paler than usual.

"Who told you?" she whispered.

"No one had to tell me, Miss Beauregard. I simply _know_."

Temperance stood and simultaneously extracted her wand, pointing it at Flint's throat.

"Tell me or _so help me_—"

"Fine, fine! Lucian Bole was the snitch, alright?" Flint said, cowering before her. Madeline wasn't surprised—she might've cowered too.

Temperance seemed satisfied with this answer and lowered her wand. Flint stood straighter as she took to sitting on the desk again.

"Lucian was the only one who knew. So why would he tell _you_?"

"Why is it Lucian knew to begin with?"

"It's none of your damn business! What do you want, Flint?"

"He'll never love you," Flint said, smirking. "You know that, don't you?"

Temperance clenched her teeth together, her jaw tightening.

"Of course you do. He's an idiot mudblood and you're… well, not."

"He's not an idiot. And if that's all you came here to tell me, I'll be off to find Lucian Bole."

"Ah, ah," Flint tutted. "We're not done here."

Temperance narrowed her eyes.

"What do you _want_?" she asked for the second time.

"You," he said. "You... or I tell the entire House."

"Ha! No one will believe you," Temperance said, shrugging.

"I'll tell all the other Houses, then."

"Who is going to believe you, Flint? I'll tell you—no one, not even _him_."

Madeline's mind was racing—who was Temperance in love with? There weren't many Muggle-borns, especially, it seemed, in her year. There was Claire, of course, and Richard's roommate Peregrine Dixon, who spent all of his time with Roger Davies.

Then, when she realized who it was, it hit her like the Hogwarts Express—_Murray Clute_.

"I bet you wouldn't want him finding out, especially since he doesn't return your feelings," said Flint. "So here's what's going to happen—"

"There's no deal, Flint. I don't care who you tell. No one's going to believe it, especially coming from you. And even if they do, _I don't care_. So take your trollish face and leave."

Flint was incensed at these words.

"I've always known there was something _filthy_ about you—disgusting mudblood-lover. You're as bad as any of them."

"If I'm so filthy, why do you want me badly enough to try to blackmail me?" Temperance asked, neither insulted nor scared. Flint didn't move, he stood there and glared at her. "Go! Go spread the stupid rumor. No one will care, especially me."

He left, and Temperance sighed, looking like she was on the verge of tears. Then, as though she had known all along they weren't alone, she said an incantation.

"_Homenum Revelio_," she said, and she looked right in the direction of Oliver and Madeline. "Who's there? I can see you, sort of."

Madeline performed the counter disillusionment charm, and she and Oliver stepped out of the corner and towards the front of the classroom.

"Madeline? Oliver?" asked Temperance, her tone betraying disbelief. "You heard all of that exchange, then?"

Madeline nodded, looking at Oliver. Had he made the discovery as well?

"We can help you, Temperance. We can talk to—"

"No," said Temperance shortly. "I don't think you fully understand."

"Is it… who I think it is?" Madeline asked, wincing at how awkward she sounded. When Temperance didn't reply, Madeline continued. "Is it Murray?"

Temperance met Madeline's eyes and her face fell. Oliver stood there, not sure what to do, while Temperance cried and Madeline hugged her.

"We can go talk to him. Surely if he knew, it wouldn't matter if there was a rumor?" offered Madeline as she stroked her dark hair.

"But he doesn't even like me," said Temperance. "This is so stupid. I shouldn't be crying over some rotten _boy_."

"Murray hasn't dated anyone in a few years," said Oliver, hoping he could be useful. "There's a chance he might have feelings for you."

Temperance shook her head, the tears mostly gone. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her pale face was blotchy. Madeline still had her arm around her friend.

"You don't understand. He doesn't _like_ me. Murray—I've spoken with him about it before—he's… well, he's gay."

Madeline looked to Oliver, and they both wore expressions of shock. Temperance must have thought they were reacting poorly, however, so she continued to say, "You can't tell anyone! He's been keeping it quiet. He's scared everyone will hate him."

"No, no," said Madeline quickly. "We won't tell anyone, and we certainly won't treat him any differently."

Oliver nodded his assent but didn't respond verbally.

"Would you still like to come to the Hufflepuff Common Room?" Madeline offered, hoping the thought of seeing Murray and Elaine would cheer her up. She nodded and followed Madeline into the corridor. Oliver stopped walking with them once they reached the staircases, as he would be heading to his own Common Room to celebrate the match he had just won. Before they parted ways, Oliver hugged Madeline tightly and kissed her.

"Come see me in the morning," he said quietly, kissing her again. Madeline smiled and nodded, and he walked off in the opposite direction.

The Hufflepuff Common Room was far from quiet despite not having won the Quidditch match themselves. They cheered as Madeline entered, though she wasn't quite sure why, but many of her Housemates were confused to see a Slytherin in their midst. Elaine and Murray, however, were both delighted to see Temperance.

"Tempy!" said Elaine after hugging her. "I'm so glad you're here!"

They ended up sitting near the fireplace, Temperance leaning against Elaine's legs while Elaine played with her hair. Madeline was sitting next to Peter Stott, whose girlfriend was undoubtedly celebrating with her House.

"Was Kendra excited?" Madeline asked as he took the seat next to her.

"Oh, yeah," said Peter, nodding. "I'm sure Oliver was as well?"

"He'll be more excited once they've beaten Slytherin," Madeline replied.

"What do you think, Tempy?" Murray asked, adopting Elaine's nickname for her. "Think Gryffindor can do it?"

"I think if anyone can do it, Gryffindor can," she said. "It's clear that Oliver Wood does not mess around when it comes to his Quidditch team. They're all very well trained."

Madeline allowed herself a grin at this. She was already itching to see him again.

"Potter's better than Malfoy. There's no way around it," said Peter. "Did you see him flying that Firebolt today? Brilliant."

Dinner in the Great Hall was rather subdued, as it seemed that the Gryffindors were all in their tower still celebrating. There was a handful of sulky Ravenclaws, but the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were there as normal. At the end of the Gryffindor table, however, sat Hermione Granger, who was eating while pouring over a massive book. She was alone and looked as though she was too busy to be disturbed. Madeline had heard that the Gryffindor third year was taking every offered elective, and she wasn't too sure how she was managing such a feat. Curious, Madeline excused herself from the company of Temperance and Elaine to join Hermione Granger at the empty Gryffindor table.

"Hello," Madeline said brightly. Hermione Granger looked up, her eyes bloodshot and her expression neutral. "Mind if I join you?"

"Wouldn't you rather sit with your friends?" she asked, her eyes returning to her book, _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_.

Though this felt like a dismissal, Madeline persevered in her attempt to join her. She wasn't sure why.

"I've already eaten, actually. I would like to talk to you, if you don't mind," Madeline said, hoping the bushy-haired witch would consent to speak with her. Hermione Granger closed her book grudgingly and met Madeline's eyes.

"I know you're busy," Madeline said, indicating the Muggle Studies book. "But I've heard curious things about your schedule, and I was hoping you could tell me about it."

The girl narrowed her eyes. "What sort of curious things?"

"I've heard, for instance, that you're taking every possible elective, which means you've got about twice as many lessons as I do."

"But you're Head Girl!" cried Hermione, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes, I am. So you can imagine my astonishment when I heard that you were taking so many classes."

"But… how many are you taking?"

"I attend only six classes during the week. It's rather wonderful, actually. I want to be a Healer, and I need NEWTs in only Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm taking Ancient Runes for fun, really."

"What about History of Magic, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, or Muggle Studies?"

"I don't need them. I've got OWLs in everything important, so as long as I get my NEWTs I'll be set," said Madeline, amused by the girl's enthusiasm for her classes.

"I'm scared I'll change my mind in the future. I want to be good at everything," she said, looking slightly terrified.

"My advice to you would be to drop Divination as soon as possible. It's a waste of time, honestly. There's nothing you can do with it."

"Yes, I've been considering doing just that. I think I'll wait until the term is over, though," she replied.

"Last year I took Ancient Studies, but there isn't a NEWT for that subjects, so I dropped it since I joined the Hufflepuff Quidditch team _and_ made Head Girl," said Madeline, shrugging. "I think you'd enjoy Ancient Studies. It's for anyone interested in doing, say, what Bill Weasley does."

"Working with ancient magic?" Hermione asked, her eyes lighting up. "I'd love to spend a few days seeing what he does."

"Have Ron send him a letter!" Madeline suggested, and Hermione's face immediately fell, her eyes clouding over in a troubling way. "Hermione, what's the matter?"

She shook her head and began eating again.

"Hermione, you can tell me. I might be the Head Girl, but I can also be a friend."

Hermione looked up, her eyes red and watery, and seemed to decide to trust her.

"Ron and Harry are mad at me," she said. "Ron, especially. Harry just keeps taking his side, like I knew he would."

"Why are they angry? Is it about that rat of his?"

"He thinks Crookshanks ate Scabbers!" Hermione cried, tears beginning to fall from her eyes. Madeline stood, walked around the table, and put an arm around the young girl. It seemed as though she would be comforting two girls in one day.

"Tell me what happened," Madeline said, rubbing her back.

Hermione spent the next ten minutes or so recounting the trouble with Crookshanks and Scabbers, which had apparently been going on all year. Madeline listened patiently while she talked about how she had suspected Sirius Black had sent Harry Potter the Firebolt and about how Hagrid's beloved hippogriff—the one that had attacked Draco Malfoy—has another trial coming up soon. On top of all of her studying she had been trying to help Hagrid do research for his trial, too. Shocked to hear how much the poor girl had going on, Madeline hugged her.

"Thank you for listening," said Hermione after she was finished. "I guess I haven't really had anyone to talk to except Hagrid."

"It's no problem," said Madeline. "May I give you a piece of advice?"

Hermione nodded, looking up at Madeline.

"You need to invest in some female friends," said Madeline. "I know other girls can be petty and annoying, but having only male friends will absolutely drive you crazy, I promise."

"Parvati Patil and I are kind of friends, and Lavender Brown talks to me sometimes…."

Madeline faced Hermione straight on and said, "Hermione, invest in at least one close friends that isn't a boy. I know it sounds like I think Ron and Harry hate you, but I know they don't. Trust me when I say it will make your life easier to have a female friend to confide in. Even though I feel I can tell Oliver anything, there are some things that are just easier to talk about with a girl friend."

Hermione nodded, looking contemplative.

"As for Harry and Ron, they'll come around eventually. They're thirteen year old boys. I wouldn't expect too much of them. When Oliver was thirteen he and Nick Tennant thought it would be funny to paste dungbombs to the underside of the Slytherin table." Hermione laughed, and Madeline was glad to hear her do so. "You know, I don't think they ever got in trouble for that. Huh."

"So… they'll grow out of it?"

Madeline laughed hard, throwing her head back and clutching her side.

"Yes, they'll definitely grow out of it, but it might take a few years. Harry and Ron care about you, though, I promise."

"He has a funny way of showing it," Hermione said. Madeline assumed she meant Ron.

"Sometimes the person we fight with the most is the person we care about the most," Madeline said, knowing Hermione would realise what she meant at some point in the future. "In the meantime, just remember that boys are strange and have a lesser emotional range than us wonderful females."

"This might be a very personal question…" began Hermione, and Madeline smiled.

"It's alright; you've told me all about your problems. The least I could do is share some of mine."

"Do you and Oliver Wood fight?" she asked. Madeline considered this.

"Yes, we do, but not so much anymore. Sometimes it's petty, sometimes it's important."

Madeline paused to remember the causes of her fights with Oliver—most of them were about him punching someone.

"Do you love him?" asked Hermione, her face flushed afterwards, perhaps because she just asked the Head Girl if she loved her boyfriend. Madeline hadn't given much thought to the prospect of love, but her response was ready before she was.

"Quite a lot, actually," Madeline said, smiling at her hands. "But be no hurry to fall in love, Hermione Granger. You have plenty of time on your hands."

"Time," she said, her voice tired but strangely wistful.

"Well, I'm sure I've distracted you quite long enough," said Madeline as she stood. Hermione followed suit, the massive book under her small arm.

"Madeline," she said, her voice much stronger than it had been, "what's it like, being Head Girl?"

Madeline contemplated her answer for a few moments.

"It's… a worthy challenge, I suppose. At first, I was dreading working with Percy, but I think he and I understand each other now. I… I'm just thankful to have had an opportunity to do good for Hogwarts, you know?"

"I think you'll make an excellent Healer," said Hermione, smiling. Madeline beamed at her new friend.

"Thank you, Hermione. If you are ever in need, don't hesitate to reach out to me."

Hermione Granger nodded and walked out of the Great Hall, presumably to the Gryffindor Tower.

That night, Madeline slept rather fitfully. First, she had a dream that Gryffindor lost the House Cup, and Oliver ran madly into the Black Lake (Madeline running after him), looking to end his life. Once he had been rescued by the Giant Squid, however, dementors swooped in and tried to suck out their souls; thankfully, the Giant Squid knew how to perform the Patronus Charm, and they were saved. Madeline awoke around midnight but fell asleep again shortly afterwards, and this time she encountered no odd dreams.

A few hours later, Madeline awoke to the feeling of someone shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes, expecting to see Elaine, but was shocked to see Professor Sprout standing over her. Elaine was still asleep in her four-poster.

"Madeline, wake up. I need you this instant."

Without thinking, Madeline leapt out of bed and threw on a dressing gown and shoes. Professor Sprout handed her the Head Girl badge, which had been lying on her dresser, and she pinned it to her dressing gown. The two women ran out of the dormitory and through the Common Room. Madeline was more awake once she began moving.

"What's happened?" Madeline asked, and Professor Sprout held a finger to her lips, effectively silencing her. She stopped and peered around the corner of the nook without saying a word.

"Wand at the ready," she whispered.

Madeline did as her Head of House bid, her mind and heart racing at the prospect of there being danger.

They patrolled the basement silently, looking cautiously around corners and stopping at the slightest of noises. This went on for several minutes, and Madeline suspected there had been another intruder in the castle. Professor Sprout checked behind a few tapestries and even opened some portraits. A few were simply storage closets, but there was one portrait of a cucumber and banana dancing the tango which, once Professor Sprout said, "wango tango," led to a cozy room that was nearly the size of the Hufflepuff Common Room. Madeline stood at the entrance and watched the corridor while the professor searched the hidden room. Though she had dozens of questions buzzing through her brain, Madeline remained silent.

Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor House ghost, joined them at the end of the basement, right near the Entrance Hall.

"I haven't seen him," said Sir Nicholas, his expression grim.

"Nor have we," replied Professor Sprout.

"What's happened, Professor?" asked Madeline.

"Sirius Black is apparently in the castle once again," she said, frowning. "Sir Nicholas, please inform Minerva that the basement and kitchen have been cleared."

Sir Nicholas nodded ever so gently and disappeared through the ceiling.

"Will we be staying in the basement, Professor?"

"No. You will be joining me as I make my way towards the Gryffindor Tower. Professor Snape is currently searching the dungeons, I believe, though we have no reason to suspect Black has lingered. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Madeline replied, gripping her wand even tighter.

"Be on your guard, Madeline."

Despite her racing heart, searching the corridors was rather dull work. They saw no one until the fifth floor, where Madam Pince was, of course, guarding the library. On the sixth floor corridor, they were greeted by Peeves the Poltergeist, who was looking rather dismayed that there wasn't more chaos. Nevertheless, he had a taunt ready for them:

"_Hufflepuffs looking, searching for Black  
__You won't find him here, Padfoot's gone back_!"_  
_

As he cackled and swooped away, Madeline found herself trying to solve Peeve's riddle, which was far less insulting than the "Mad Maddie Palmer" he usually crowed at her; perhaps he was more respectful with Professor Sprout with her?

Professor McGonagall and Percy were standing outside of the portrait hole speaking with Filch, and Sir Cadogan's portrait had already been removed. Madeline and Percy were allowed to enter the Common Room, while Professor Sprout remained outside with McGonagall.

Madeline was shocked to see the entire Gryffindor House awake and in the Common Room, which suddenly looked terribly small. As Percy told her of the night's events, Oliver gave Madeline a tight hug. She was shocked to hear what had happened—_Sirius Black had nearly killed Ron Weasley!_ But before she could have a proper conversation with Oliver, McGonagall called for Madeline. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Lupin were now standing outside the portrait hole with Filch and Sprout.

"Miss Palmer," said Dumbledore. "Would you be so kind as to accompany Professor Lupin in his search of the Astronomy Tower?"

"Yes, sir," Madeline said, nodding. She didn't understand why Professor Sprout or Percy couldn't have done this, as she was keen to speak with Oliver. Assuring herself that he and the rest of his House was fine, Madeline nodded once more and turned to follow Professor Lupin. Professor Dumbledore thanked them as they walked away.

"This year has been more exciting than I remember my school days being," said Professor Lupin as they made their way down the corridor that led the staircases. Though she was tired, Madeline was thankful Lupin didn't feel the need to remain silent while they searched. "We never had intruders in the castle, at least not to my knowledge."

"This Sirius Black business has gone on long enough, honestly. I've been anxious about it ever since this summer when I heard he was on the loose," said Madeline, wrapping her dressing gown around her tighter. She wished she had thought to grab a thicker cloak.

"He's not to be trifled with, that's for sure."

"Ron Weasley," said Madeline, shaking her head. "Sirius Black stood over Ron Weasley's bed with a knife, didn't kill him, and then ran away. _Why_?"

"Why, indeed? I can't imagine him staying in the castle for long. He didn't linger last time he visited, either," said Lupin.

"Hufflepuffs looking, searching for Black; you won't find him here, Padfoot's gone back," Madeline said as she wondered what Peeves knew. He always knew something.

"What—what did you just say?"

"Oh. On our way to the Gryffindor Tower, Peeves saw Professor Sprout and I and said something like usual, though this time it felt more like a riddle," explained Madeline. "He said, 'Hufflepuffs looking, searching for Black; you won't find him here, Padfoot's gone back.' I still don't understand—what's a 'padfoot'?"

"A nickname," said Lupin after a moment, his voice barely louder than a whisper. When Madeline looked at the professor, she noticed he had turned pale and was looking as though he might get sick. "Black's nickname from his time here at Hogwarts."

"Professor, are you alright?" Madeline asked as Professor Lupin halted. Madeline touched his arm, although it might have been inappropriate to do so. "You knew him, didn't you? Sirius Black?"

"We were at school the same time, yes," he said. Professor Lupin turned and began walking again. Madeline caught up to him and resolved not to ask any further questions.

The Astronomy Tower was, of course, empty. Professor Lupin's preferred searching method was using the _Homenum Revelio_ charm, which Madeline had yet to learn. After mentioning this, their search of the Tower turned into a lesson.

"It's rather straightforward. The charm simply reveals the presence of any humans, and reveals it only to the person casting the charm. Repeat after me—_Homenum Revelio._"

"_Homenum Revelio_," said Madeline.

"You want to make the _hoh_ and the _vay_ nice and long. Try again."

"Hoooohmenum Revaaaaylio."

"Yes, excellent. There is no certain movement of the wand, though you may swoop to search a vaster area," said Professor Lupin. "Now you try."

Madeline pointed her wand down the corridor, said the incantation, and nothing happened.

"That's alright," said Professor Lupin lightly. "You want to feel as though you've sent a breeze through the corridor. Try it again."

Madeline attempted the charm once more, and this time she felt it—a light breeze seemed to be issued from her wand, though she felt nothing more than that.

"Did you feel the breeze?"

"Yes, I did. Thanks, Professor. Now if I can only master the Patronus Charm."

"Have you attempted it?"

"No, I haven't, I've been so worried about studying for the NEWTs. But after seeing Harry Potter perform the spell today, I think I will try," said Madeline. If a thirteen year old boy (never mind his being the Boy Who Lived) could do it, so could she.

"Your skill with nonverbal magic has greatly improved, and Minerva has been praising your talent with Transfiguration as of late. I doubt you will have any serious problems learning the charm," said Professor Lupin as they neared the Gryffindor Tower.

"She's been praising me?" asked Madeline, her eyebrows perched together. Madeline could distinctly recall McGonagall gazing at her with disappointment just the other day. Professor Lupin nodded.

"Of course. Why shouldn't she praise you? Transfiguration is your best subject, is it not?"

"I suppose, but I want to be a Healer," Madeline said, frowning.

"They need Healers talented in Transfiguration at Saint Mungo's, believe me," Lupin replied, smiling kindly. Madeline nodded, feeling tired and looking forward to seeing Oliver, but thankful to hear that McGonagall and Lupin thought she was talented.

It was dawn when she and Professor Lupin finally reached the Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady was still being restored by Filch and Professor Flitwick, and Madeline followed Professor McGonagall into the Common Room. All of the Gryffindors looked at them when they entered, and Percy and Oliver stood. Hermione Granger looked as though she had been pacing.

"What news, Professor?" asked Percy.

"Sirius Black has escaped once again," she said. "Extra security measures are being taken as we speak, and I trust that you will all be far more careful with your personal belongings."

At this, McGonagall shot a deadly look at Neville Longbottom, a sweet round-faced boy with whom Madeline had never spoken.

"You may all return to your dormitories if you wish, as breakfast shall not be served for another hour or so."

Though Madeline had wished to stay in the Gryffindor Common Room and spend time with Oliver, Professor McGonagall had more tasks for her, this time including Percy. They were first sent to check on Madam Pince, who was upset to hear that the madman had escaped once again, and then they were asked to escort her to the Hospital Wing, as she was nearly having a panic attack. Once at the Hospital Wing, they were asked to join McGonagall in Dumbledore's office. Madeline, who had grown quite weary, was afraid Dumbledore would have more for her to do.

"Fudge Flies," said Percy as they reached the statue of the golden eagle.

Once in the office, which made Madeline feel rather uncomfortable again, Dumbledore stood and walked around his desk.

"Percy, Madeline," he said, looking at them sternly. "Is there any information you have—anything at all—that may help us discover how Sirius Black has entered this castle twice?"

Percy, looking appalled, began sputtering.

"No, no, of course not, sir—you should ask those brothers of mine, as they're always sneaking around the castle."

Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes met Madeline's, and rather than feeling panic, she felt calm.

"Sir, Sirius Black's nickname when he was at school here—have you heard it?"

"No, my dear, not in many years," Dumbledore said, peering at her over the rims of his half moon-shaped glasses.

"Peeves said it tonight, to Professor Sprout and I. He said, 'Hufflepuffs looking, searching for Black'…." It took her a moment to remember the next line. "'You won't find him here, Padfoot's gone back.'"

McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged quick glances, and Madeline continued.

"So I told Professor Lupin when we were searching the Astronomy Tower, and he told me that 'Padfoot' was Black's nickname here at school."

"So it was," said McGonagall, nodding grimly.

"I don't know what it means, but I thought perhaps you might," Madeline said, shrugging. Dumbledore nodded.

"Very well. Minerva, could you and Percy please find Argus? I need to speak with him immediately," said Dumbledore. "I need to speak with Hagrid as well, but I shall make that visit on my own. I've not visited him in some time, I'm afraid."

McGonagall hesitated the slightest moment and then turned and ushered Percy out of the office. Madeline looked around and saw that there were multiple portraits lining Dumbledore's office, many of whom looked quite alert. Once Percy and McGonagall had exited, Dumbledore turned and took a bowl from his desk.

"Lemon drop?" he offered, and Madeline took a few. "Madeline, what do you think of Professor Lupin, I wonder?"

"Professor Lupin?" Madeline asked, she asked, her eyebrows pressed together. She was immediately curious as to why Dumbledore would ask for her opinion of someone, but she ignored it and considered his question. Her voice sounded funny, as she had a lemon drop on the side of her mouth.

"Well, he's certainly the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor you've ever hired," she said, looking thoughtful. "He's shown multiple times that he really cares about the students, especially Harry Potter. I have reason to believe he taught Potter the Patronus Charm."

Dumbledore nodded. "He did."

Madeline shrugged, still thinking. _Professor Lupin... what of him?_

"Do you find him to be trustworthy?" Dumbledore asked, popping a lemon drop into his mouth.

"Yes, I believe so. He's taught me so much, and he gives every student a chance, despite what anyone says of them. He's really very kind. He reminds me…."

Madeline stopped, her voice faltering. He reminded Madeline of her father. He always had.

"Yes?" Dumbledore prompted.

"He reminds me of my father," Madeline said, feeling a little embarrassed. "They were both in Gryffindor, both calm, both kind and strong and wise."

"I remember Henry Palmer," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Gryffindor, as you said. He and Paul Wood were good friends even then, if my memory serves me well."

"It does," said Madeline, her smile quick and easy.

"He was made prefect, your father was, but he was too busy playing Quidditch to be interested in being Head Boy."

"That sounds familiar," she replied, trying to hide a grin. Her thoughts immediately went to Oliver.

"Yes, I'm sure it does. Now, I think you've helped quite enough for one morning, don't you? You may retire your Head Girl badge for the rest of today, if you wish," said Dumbledore with a small smile.

Madeline nodded, the relief nearly immediate. She stood to leave and he stopped her.

"Miss Palmer?"

"Yes, Professor?"

For a moment, Dumbledore simply gazed at her, as though looking right through her. Upon learning about the practices of Legilimency and Occlumency, Madeline had surmised that Dumbledore was an accomplished Legilimens—so good, in fact, that one could hardly register his presence in one's mind. As he looked at her, Madeline's mind's eye conjured an image of Oliver, and she smiled, a blush creeping up her neck. She couldn't wait to see him again, and she wondered if she would always feel that way.

"Go rest," Dumbledore said with a nod.

Madeline curtsied lightly, which greatly amused the wizened Headmaster, and practically ran to the Gryffindor Common Room. The Fat Lady had been expertly restored, yet she was glancing around nervously. Professor Flitwick was standing next to the portrait and speaking words of comfort.

"They will fetch your security trolls, don't you worry," he said in his squeaky voice as Madeline approached. "Hello, Miss Palmer. I'm afraid Percy has not returned to the Common Room, if that's who you were looking for."

"Hello, Professor," said Madeline, smiling pointedly at the Fat Lady. "I was actually just hoping to enter the Common Room, if that's alright. Need to check on the students."

"Right, the new password is 'Nelmidia,'" said Flitwick, and the Fat Lady let her enter.

The Common Room wasn't empty, but it seemed as though most of the Gryffindors were still sleeping. Madeline made her way up the stairs and found Oliver's dormitory. She knocked, and a moment later, Nicolas opened the door.

"Ah," he said, smiling gently. He stood aside and let her pass, despite Oliver's being shirtless, and once she was in their dormitory, Nicolas exited and shut the door behind him.

* * *

**Chapter 21: Hogsmeade**

"Well there's just no avoiding it, is there? I'll have to go starkers, then."


	21. Hogsmeade

**Chapter 21: Hogsmeade**

"Memories are dangerous things.  
You turn them over and over, until you know every touch and corner, but still you'll find an edge to cut you."  
- Mark Lawrence, _Prince of Thorns_

* * *

Without a word, Oliver crossed the room and pulled Madeline to his chest.

"Hi," she said weakly. As she stood leaning against him, eyes closed, Madeline felt as though she had transferred all of her weight to him.

"You're exhausted," Oliver said, scooping her up and laying her on his bed. She removed her boots and dressing gown and crawled under his sheets.

"Yesterday was long," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I just want to sleep all day."

"So sleep all day. Stay with me, right here, all day."

"That sounds wonderful," said Madeline as she laid her head next to his.

Thankfully it was Sunday, and rather than studying for the NEWTs, Oliver and Madeline spent most of the day in his bed. Oliver was exhausted from the Quidditch match and complained of many sore muscles, but Madeline knew he relished the dull pain of exercise just as she did. She spent a while loosening some of the knots in his back, and they both slept a great deal. All morning and well into the afternoon, she and Oliver laid in bed sleeping, snogging, or talking. They joined their friends at dinner, but Madeline didn't feel refreshed; resting for so long had left her groggy and grumpy. The next day was Monday, and no one was looking forward to the new week less than Madeline.

On Monday, Transfiguration went well, but in her Charms lesson she received a disappointed look from Professor Flitwick that made her stomach squirm uncomfortably—she hadn't practiced performing the summoning charm nonverbally, and therefore couldn't properly summon a pillow without opening her mouth. Nicolas kept shooting worried looks at her, and this only frustrated her more. She left the lesson feeling irritable. After a rather boring Ancient Runes lesson, Madeline trudged up to the library with Claire to start working on another Potions essay. She was so sick of writing essays for Snape that she threatened to throttle him.

Her Potions lesson on Tuesday made Madeline absolutely livid—Flint kept thrusting at her suggestively, and while he was neglecting his potion, his cauldron exploded. Though it was satisfying to see Flint fail again, she and Oliver were both fuming as they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. For once Madeline didn't stop him from ranting and cursing, as she was equally furious.

"He's a bloody bastard," said Oliver, his voice shaking. Madeline nodded her assent and unclenched Oliver's fists by taking his hands. Claire, Richard, and Nicolas all seemed unaffected by Flint's actions.

"He's foul, that's for sure," said Richard, shrugging. "I just wish he'd fail already. He's not going to pass any of the NEWTs."

At this, Madeline and Oliver exchanged a furtive look—Oliver had kept his promise and hadn't told anyone about the conversation she'd had with Malfoy at the beginning of last term. The year was almost over, and Madeline didn't feel her friends needed to know. Flint was still being punished for his stunt at the Ravenclaw/Gryffindor game, and since he was usually occupied with detention or Quidditch practices, Madeline didn't believe she was in any real trouble.

By Friday, the hype of another Hogsmeade weekend was upon them, but Madeline was too busy turning into a nervous wreck to notice. That evening, she could be found in the Gryffindor Common Room studying with Nicolas. Though he and Margaret were still happily dating, Nicolas had taken to helping Madeline remain calm in Oliver's absence—as the Gryffindor/Slytherin match approached, Oliver was often at the pitch with his team. They were working on Charms, Nicolas' favorite subject, because it had been giving Madeline fits lately.

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong!" Madeline said to him. "I've said the incantation correctly, I'm concentrating properly—bloody hell, Nick, I don't have time for this!"

"You're stressed, is the problem, Maddie," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her into a seat. He took the seat next to her and placed a hand on her arm. "This means you're _not_ concentrating properly. What're you thinking about?"

"Charms! I just don't understand why this is harder for me than Transfiguration! It's supposed to be the other way around!"

"Stop, stop, stop," said Nicolas, frowning. "You're one of the brightest witches at this ruddy school, and if you'd stop second-guessing yourself, you'd be fine."

Madeline ran her hands over her face and through her wavy hair, which was more tangled and wild than usual. After spending a few moments trying to extricate her fingers from her waves, she decided to put it in a bun to get it out of the way.

"Face it, Nick, I'm never going to be as good as you at Charms. I'm just not," she said as she struggled with her hair.

"Madeline, you've been just as good as me at Charms for six years now."

Madeline flailed and slumped in her chair. Nicolas nodded as if he had predicted this behavior.

"Feeling melodramatic tonight, are we?"

"Perhaps a smidgen."

"Rubbish," he said, lips turned upwards ever so slightly.

"Perhaps a lot."

"Look, you'll just have to keep practicing. It's as simple as that."

"I'm sick of practicing," she replied, moaning.

"And I'm sick of your whining, Madeline Mae Palmer."

Madeline's eyes, which had been closed, snapped open in a glare.

"_How do you know my middle name?_" she hissed.

"What do you mean, 'how'? I've known you for six and half years, Maddie Mae—"

"I never told you my middle name! And for Merlin's bullocks' sake stop saying it!"

"My living with your boyfriend all these years couldn't have anything to do with it, could it?"

"_Oliver told you?!_"

Madeline was too preoccupied to hear the Gryffindor Quidditch team walk in, and Oliver was standing behind her as she yelled at Nicolas.

"What did I do?" Oliver asked, and Madeline stood and turned to face him. His hair was disheveled, his Quidditch garb sweaty, and his eyes were lit up in a way Madeline knew to mean practice had gone well. She couldn't help but smile at the sight before her eyes.

"You told this git my middle name, is what you did," Madeline said, her tone a notch below irritated.

"Madeline has a middle name?" asked Fred Weasley, who was carefully taking a seat nearby, a large purple bruise visible on his right arm. He slumped and closed his eyes, looking as though he was ready to pass out. George Weasley had crossed the Common Room and had gone straight to his dormitory, as had Harry Potter, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet.

"Aye, I do," she said, crossing her arms. "Fred, you're supposed to hit the Bludgers, not be their target."

At this, Oliver grinned, rubbing his neck and saying, "George had a good practice."

"Why did you tell Nick my middle name?" Madeline asked, rounding on Oliver. He shrugged.

"I don't remember telling him," Oliver said, looking over at Nicolas, who was reading his notes, trying to look blasé. "What have you two been working on?"

"Charms—"

"Nothing. We've gotten nothing done," Nicolas said, cutting her off. "Maddie Mae's being difficult."

"_Stop calling me that!_" Madeline cried, making an angry move towards Nicolas, who smirked.

"Whoa—" said Oliver as he caught her by her arms.

"Maddie Mae—that has a nice ring to it, actually," said Fred, his eyes closed, and a lopsided grin stretching across his freckled face. Angelina, who hadn't yet gone to her room, sat next to Fred.

"Let me see that arm of yours," she said, her voice tenderer than Madeline had been expecting. Fred opened his eyes, sat up, and let her tend to his bruise. Madeline turned her attention to Nicolas.

"Nick, _stop_ calling me that. The whole damn school will start saying it if you don't shut it," said Madeline.

"Maybe that's the plan," he said, smirking still, a challenging look in his eyes.

"Hey," said Oliver, placing a hand on Madeline's waist, "c'mon."

She packed her things, shot Nick a glare, and followed Oliver to his dormitory. When she reached his bed, she plopped down face-first.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuurghghhhhhhhh."

"You've not had a very good week, have you?" asked Oliver, his tone sprinkled with amusement. Madeline turned over and watched as Oliver pulled his shirt off.

"It just got a little better," she mumbled. He shook his head in disbelief but closed the distance between them all the same. "This is literally my favorite part of every day."

"Every day, hmm?" he asked, standing over her.

"Yes, every day. Some day I'm going to make you go around naked all day, and then the whole day will be my favorite. Tomorrow, for example, would probably be more fun without clothes."

"Well there's just no avoiding it, is there? I'll have to go starkers, then."

"To Hogsmeade, you mean? That would be fun, except I don't want all those other girls thinking you're a free agent," said Madeline, who had sat up.

"I like being your agent," he asked as he wrapped an arm around her waist. She was kneeling on his bed while he stood next to it, and she was barely his height. "What's been going on with you and Nick lately?"

"I dunno," Madeline said, throwing her arms around Oliver. "He's been such a prick."

Oliver gazed at her carefully for a few moments, his expression concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Me? Sure," she said, shrugging. "Nervous, anxious, and stressed at every hour of the day, but sure, I'm alright."

"Madeline," Oliver said with a sigh. "You have to stop worrying."

"Nick is stressful."

"I'll talk to him," said Oliver, placing a kiss on her forehead. Before Madeline could respond, he kissed her eyelids and then her cheeks.

"You're the only thing that isn't stressf—"

Oliver placed a kiss on her lips and pressed her closer to him, and Madeline ran her hands down his chest, breaking their kiss to watch her gliding fingers.

"Madeline," Oliver said, his voice nothing but a whisper, "you're testing my self-control again."

"One day I won't be testing it; I'll be breaking it."

Oliver's fingers dug into Madeline's waist, her eyes snapping up to his, and she kissed him before he could say anything. In response, Oliver deepened the kiss, joining Madeline on his bed, and Madeline welcomed his weight on top of her. Without much thought, she decided she was wearing too many clothes, but as she began unbuttoning her shirt, Oliver's hands wrapped around her wrists and pinned them to either side of her head. He broke the kiss to look at her, his brown eyes dark with something she wasn't familiar with, and her chest was rising and falling quickly.

"Maddie… I want you to be happy. You know that, right?"

Madeline felt like her lungs had frozen.

"What?" she asked, sitting up on her elbows. Oliver swung his legs over and stood from the bed.

"I want you to be happy. You're… you're happy with me, right?"

"How could you ask that?" asked Madeline, feeling like someone had stunned her. Oliver shrugged, and the light that had lit up his eyes earlier was completely lost. "What's on your mind? You can tell me, remember?"

Madeline sat up completely and pulled Oliver back to his bed, where he sat, and she ran her hand up and down his back.

"I think Nick still has feelings for you," Oliver said, closing his eyes as though he had said something foolish.

"So? He has Margaret."

"It just… scares me, I guess."

"Ha!" cried Madeline, standing and pointing a finger at Oliver in triumph. He stared at her, torn between hurt and amusement. "Ha, ha, ha! You told me there was nothing to worry about, that I was being silly, and here you are—_worrying_. What was it you said to me? Oh, yes. 'As long as I have you in my life, nothing else matters.' Isn't that about right?"

Oliver fought back a smile as Madeline's hands found her hips.

"And I distinctly remember being concerned about all of this just disappearing, and what did you say to me? Hmm?"

Oliver could fight the smile no longer.

"It won't disappear."

"Oh, Oliver, how could you ever be sure?" Madeline asked, throwing her hand up to her forehead in a bout of theatrics. Oliver tugged her over to him and held her close.

"I'll never give up on you," he said.

"Nor I you," she replied, her hand on his warm cheek.

"I don't know if I've ever told you this, but…"

"Yes? Get on with it," said Madeline, eyebrows raised.

"You're beautiful."

The smile drifted from her lips, and her eyes widened. Had she heard him correctly?

"I've decided I don't compliment you enough. You always rebuff anyone's praise of your beauty," said Oliver, smiling. "It's rather sad, actually."

"But I'm not—I don't—"

Oliver shushed her, kissed her again, and then asked her if she needed to leave.

"Unfortunately. Perhaps we could just stay in all day tomorrow?"

"That sounds wonderful, but maybe we should get a few butterbeers first," said Oliver.

They kissed once more, both wishing to stay with the other, and eventually Oliver walked her back to the Hufflepuff Common Room, where they shared yet another kiss.

"Saying goodnight is annoying in our present condition," Madeline said, pouting. Oliver nodded his agreement, kissing her again. "I've lost count of how many times we've kissed tonight."

"You were counting?" Oliver asked, laughing.

"For the days I don't get a kiss," Madeline said, looking at her feet. Her hands swung awkwardly at her sides, hitting her hips and swinging out again. She hated how her words left her mouth, how they sounded pathetic, as if she wasn't strong enough to go a single bloody day without a kiss from her boyfriend. Even the thought made her feel stupid.

"I kiss you every day, don't I?" Oliver asked, sounding upset. He took her chin and made her look at him, his maple brown eyes dark with something that looked like regret. "Don't I?"

"Some days we're both so busy, I don't think—"

Oliver interrupted her by kissing her again, and Madeline's heart fluttered.

"It won't happen again," he said, his voice low.

"What?"

"It won't happen again, I promise. You deserve to be kissed every day."

"You're being silly. I'm not a child; I don't need to be coddled—"

"No, you're right, we're not children anymore. I'm a man in love with a woman, and I plan on kissing her every day, even if it's _just because I can_."

"Oh, Oliver," she said, and they kissed once again.

Saturday morning dawned to find Madeline awake and writing a letter to her parents, who she sorely missed. She included the details of the last match, and told them about how excellent Oliver's playing was, and ended up writing so much about Oliver that she had to scrap the first draft and try another. When she finally finished the letter, in which she left out information regarding the second Hogwarts break-in, she got dressed and began the long trek to the Owlery. The sun was up, but barely just, and Madeline was in a great mood for the first time all week. She was glad to be sending a letter, as she felt as though she had been neglecting Augustus something terrible, but she never really had mail to send or receive.

Once in the West Tower, Madeline made her way up all those stairs, thinking worriedly of her mother. The Owlery wasn't a place frequented by students, and no one ever took to cleaning it, which meant that there were skeletons and owl droppings everywhere. Madeline carefully made her way to Augustus on her tiptoes, making sure to avoid fresh droppings. While tying the letter to Augustus' foot, Madeline decided she would go straight to the Great Hall for breakfast. Augustus was thrilled to see her, or perhaps he was simply glad to have something to do, but either way he hooted and nipped at her with pleasure.

Just as Augustus was flying awake, Madeline heard footsteps falling on the steps outside the large, circular stone room. She turned around to see Marcus Flint, and fear immediately prickled her skin. She was alone, far away from her friends and the professors, and though she had her wand, she had never felt more vulnerable.

"What a pleasant surprise," he said gruffly, a smirk crossing his face. "Madeline Palmer, alone in the Owlery."

"Flint," Madeline said with a curt nod. She refused to acknowledge the fear bubbling in her stomach, and she was even more wary of letting him see how afraid she was. If he knew, he would think he had the upper hand. She didn't reach for her wand, as she didn't want to spark an attack—she had no idea how fast his reflexes were, but something told her that his stupidity didn't extend to his dueling abilities.

_You're smarter than him_, she told herself.

Flint moved towards a school owl and began latching a letter to its leg, glancing at her every few seconds, as if expecting her to be on the offensive. Madeline's heart was pounding, her instinct for flight overwhelming—if she didn't make a run for it, he would surely stun her.

So with her heart pounding madly, Madeline dashed for the exit, hoping she could outrun a troll.

* * *

Nicolas crumpled the letter in his hand and cursed. His father always managed to piss him off, even if it was simply by wishing him well—

_It has come to my attention that your NEWTs are coming up soon, so to that I would like to say good luck, but I do not want you thinking luck can carry you very far, so please do study hard and make your father proud. You have a legacy to live up to, never forget. The Tennants are well respected throughout all of Europe, and soon you will have this responsibility on your shoulders. Your mother would have wanted you to do well. Though I will be in Spain for the next few weeks on business, my well wishes shall be with you, son._

This had only been part of the letter. Ever since Nicolas' mother had passed away, he and his father had grown distant, and Nicolas didn't like pretending he and his father were close. He preferred ignoring their relationship altogether, actually.

Fist clenched around the letter from his father, Nicolas wound his way up the stairs of the West Tower, his thoughts swirling around his family name and legacy. He came from a family of purebloods, a family of respect, dignity, and old money—though he wasn't sure what his father did on his "business trips," Nicolas knew he would find out soon enough. A slew of curses fell from his mouth, as this was not what he envisioned for himself—he wanted to have an exciting job in the Ministry, as an Unspeakable or even an Auror; he wanted to do something worthwhile, something meaningful… something that would make her proud.

Nicolas' jaw clenched as his thoughts found their way to Madeline Palmer, the one person who had made him forget about familial duties. His "crush" on her had been neither slight nor fleeting. When he fantasized about his future, she was always included in some way—whether it was as his girlfriend or wife, Madeline Palmer was always there, bickering with him about something stupid, her bright hazel eyes tearing away the walls he built around himself.

Though he had already declared his approval of her relationship with Oliver Wood, his feelings were gnawing at his chest, gorging a huge hole in his heart. The more he saw them together, the more he saw his imaginary future dissipating—he had unknowingly made a permanent connection between Madeline and a future of happiness, and now that she was truly in love with someone else, he felt this future slipping through his fingers like water. Even Margaret Bradbury's constant attention and affection couldn't lessen the weight in his chest.

Nicolas had been putting off writing to his father all week, and after pissing Madeline off in the Common Room last night, he decided to draft a response. He wrote about everything, deciding that he didn't have anyone else to talk to, and told his father about Madeline (albeit vaguely) and his troubled heart. The thought of divulging his feelings to his father made Nicolas uncomfortable, but he didn't have anything to lose, so he was off to send the letter regardless.

Cursing the distance he had to traverse in order to send the stupid owl, Nicolas trudged along a corridor that led to another corridor that led to another flight of stairs, but stopped sharply when he heard a high-pitched cry and shouting. It sounded as though it was coming from the next corridor, so Nicolas took off running; when he turned the corner, a bolt of light missed his head, and he fumbled for his wand just as he dove for the ground. Before he could stand, another flash almost hit him, and he rolled over and stood, his wand at the ready.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he shouted as he cast his wand in the direction of his opponent. The spell was on-target, and two wands came hurtling his way. He lunged and caught them, his breathing heavy, and finally got a good look at who he had disarmed.

Marcus Flint was standing next to a girl whose hands were pinned to the corridor wall, her shirt ripped open, her dark, reddish-brown hair hanging over her face—Nicolas' heart nearly stopped beating.

_Madeline._

A fury such as he had never known flooded his veins, and he drew to his full height, his eyes darting to Flint, who had turned and was running away, fumbling over his own clumsy feet. Without a second thought, Nicolas raised his wand, stunned the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, and strode over to where he was crumpled on the ground. Too furious to be concerned about Madeline, Nicolas began kicking Flint in the ribs with all the force he could muster. It wasn't until she whimpered that he turned and saw what damage had actually been done.

Her hair was messy, but that wasn't anything unusual—it was the bruises blossoming on her arms, her torn shirt, and her unbuttoned trousers that made Nicolas' fists clench. He turned and punched the unconscious Flint a few times for good measure.

"Stop, please," she said, her voice pleading and shaky. Nicolas halted at her words, though he was still shaking with rage, and walked to her. He mended her shirt and performed a counter-curse, releasing her from her bindings, and she fell into his ready arms. He lifted her from the ground and began carrying her away from the West Tower.

"I… I thought if I ran I'd be able to get away," she mumbled after a few minutes, and he gritted his teeth with the effort of trying to remain calm. "But he disarmed me. I guess he was faster. I just wanted to o-owl my mum."

Hearing Madeline's voice falter, Nicolas stopped walking, taking deep, even breaths. This was not a time to lose his head—Madeline was safe, she was in his arms, and nothing serious had happened. Nicolas tried stopping the next thought from entering his mind, but it was like trying to stop the wind from blowing—_if I hadn't been sending a letter to my father, if I hadn't been furious… Flint would have had his way with her. _The image of Madeline's clothes being torn from her body left Nicolas shaking, a cold, precise fury still washing through him.

"Nick," Madeline said, "are you alright?"

A bitter laugh broke from Nicolas' throat.

"You've just been nearly…" he couldn't finish the sentence, and instead continued with the next thought, "I should be asking you if you're alright."

"You're shaking," she said, her voice quiet, almost tender. "Nick, I'm fine."

"Perhaps now," he said. "But you weren't a minute ago, and you certainly wouldn't have been fine if I hadn't turned up."

To this, Madeline seemed to have no reply. He continued carrying her, even though she seemed fully capable of walking, and soon they were nearing the Gryffindor Tower.

"Malfoy warned me not to go anywhere alone," Madeline said suddenly. Her words were quiet and tired. Nicolas felt her shake her head against his chest, which seemed to ignite a fire there. He tried to ignore the warmth spreading through his body.

"He warned you? When?" asked Nicolas, shocked to hear that the third year Slytherin brat would care enough to warn her about Flint.

"When we were stuck in the Hospital Wing together," she said.

"But that was…"

Nicolas stopped walking, realisation hitting him like a Bludger. She and Malfoy were only in the Hospital Wing together at the beginning of the year, when he was attacked by the hippogriff and she was sick….

"We were dating then," Nicolas said, the words sounding odd to his ears. Madeline nodded, and he looked down at her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Madeline didn't reply, but he could see the guilt flooding her hazel eyes, which always looked green when she was upset. She was on the brink of tears, and Nicolas was shaking again.

"_Why didn't you tell me?_" he asked again, his voice much harsher this time. At this, the tears burst forth from their dam, and Nicolas felt a wave of guilt flow through him. He hated upsetting her, but _damnit!_

Thankfully they weren't far from the Gryffindor Tower, and once they were there, Nicolas carried her to his dormitory and laid her on Oliver's empty bed, setting her wand next to her. Percy was gone from their dormitory as well, but Nicolas knew he was rarely there. Once she was lying down, he turned to leave.

"Where're you going?" asked Madeline, her eyes puffy and nose tinged pink. Though he didn't relish the idea of leaving her alone, he needed to take care of Flint once and for all.

"I'll be back soon," he said.

"Nick," she said, her voice wavering. He turned and looked at her, his walls falling upon seeing her in tears once again. "I'm sorry."

In two strides, Nicolas crossed the room, took her in his arms, and nearly kissed her. Right before his lips met hers, he stopped and wiped the tears from her cheeks instead. She began crying harder. With her still in his arms, Nicolas extracted his wand from his pocket and tried to recall a happy memory.

"_I can't believe we're playing Truth or Dare," Madeline said, rolling her eyes. There was a light breeze stirring her loose waves, and an easy grin crossed Nicolas' face. They were sitting next to each other out near the Black Lake with most of the other sixth years._

"_All exams have been cancelled, Maddie! What else should we be doing but lounging by the lake, especially with weather such as this?" said Claire, whose voice had always been a notch too high for Nicolas to find attractive._

"_Playing Quidditch sounds like a reasonable alternative," said Oliver. At this, Nicolas noticed Madeline grin._

"_I like that plan," she said pointedly to Claire, who rolled her eyes._

"_It's my turn anyway, that's why you're panicking. You think I'm going to make you do something ridiculous. But I'm not. I choose Mr. Tennant as my victim, actually," said Claire._

"_Me? What could you possibly have me do?"_

"_What if I choose Truth?" asked Claire, grinning wickedly._

"_Fine, get on with it," said Nicolas, waving a hand impatiently. "What'll it be?"_

"_It's a dare, come to think of it," she said, stalling again._

"_What is it?" cried Kendra Hurst, who had always been easily excited._

"_I dare you, Nicolas Tennant, to kiss Madeline Palmer," said Claire, her words clear and determined. There were many reactions all at once: Madeline's mouth fell open in a wonderfully attractive 'O' formation, a smile curving the corners; Murray, Oliver, and Peter nearly busted a gut laughing; Elaine and Kendra shrieked loudly; and Richard smilingly shook his head at his girlfriend, who was still wearing a wicked grin._

_Before Madeline could cower or run away, as Nicolas knew she would undoubtedly attempt to do, Nicolas threw his arms over her and pinned her down. She grinned up at him bashfully, a hand covering her lips, and she was already blushing._

"_I think I'll be needing those uncovered," he said as he took her hand and pulled it away from her lips. He leaned over, their lips meeting…._

Nicolas then performed the Patronus Charm, which he had been practicing for a few weeks, and produced a great silvery stallion that bucked its head and shook its mane. It cantered around the room, its silvery light a little eery, and stopped near Nicolas and Madeline.

"Oliver Wood," said Nicolas, ready to convey his message and staring at his Patronus, "Madeline's been attacked. She's in our dormitory. Come quickly."

Nicolas then pointed his wand in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, where he knew Oliver would be.

Once the Patronus was gone, Madeline slumped to the bed and passed out. Nicolas checked to ensure that her pulse and breathing were normal before leaving her alone. He knew Oliver would come as quickly as possible, potentially flying straight to the window of their dormitory, so he didn't worry. He had a Slytherin coward to take care of.

* * *

**Chapter 22: A Gryffindor's Grudge**

"There's a way of going about things in this House, and this is certainly not one of them."

**A/N: Nick's perspective of this event is pretty important, so forgive me; we'll be getting back to Madeline soon! As always, let me know what you think! :3**


	22. A Gryffindor's Grudge

**Chapter 22: A Gryffindor's Grudge**

"It is our responsibilities, not our selves, that we should take seriously." - Peter Ustinav

* * *

Flint was lying there, perfectly still, when Nicolas arrived back in the West Tower. A little blood had spilled from his nose, and upon seeing him again, Nicolas had the savage urge to break every bone in the coward's body. Part of him was angry Madeline hadn't told him of the warning, but the other part was pissed at himself—he'd ignored the signs, all of them, and hadn't taken Flint seriously.

_Well,_ Nicolas thought, cracking his knuckles, _I'm taking you seriously now, bastard._

Nicolas punched Flint in the gut. This didn't make him less angry, but it did rid him of the urge to drop Flint from the top of the Astronomy Tower.

Taking a deep breath, Nicolas levitated Flint and began his trek to McGonagall's personal dormitory, which was located near the Gryffindor Common Room. He knocked ever so politely on her door, waited patiently for her to exit, and plastered a smile to his face when she did. Flint was lying a few feet away.

"Good morning, Professor. I hope I didn't wake you."

McGonagall was not to be distracted.

"What is it, Tennant?"

"Well, early this morning I decided to send a letter to my father, and as I made my way to the Owlery, I heard some shouting. As I turned the corner, you see, I found Mr. Flint here—" Nicolas indicated the unconscious Slytherin with his hand "—attacking Madeline Palmer."

McGonagall looked from Flint to Nicolas with sharp glances.

"He looks as though he's the one who was attacked."

"Yes, well," said Nicolas, his words coming out tightly clipped, "I might've been angry."

"There's a way of going about things in this House, and this is certainly not one of them, Tennant. Attacking a student for attacking a student is simply—"

"With all due respect, Professor, he'd ripped her clothes."

There was a moment in which McGonagall looked as though she hadn't heard him correctly. She gazed at him hard, and then looked to Flint.

"Are you sure, Tennant? This is a serious offense, one that even Severus can't make excuses for," McGonagall said, her voice dangerous dark.

"Well," said Nicolas a little too casually, "you can take into account that I've never come to your office before, or you can question Madeline, who's unconscious in my dormitory, or you can rennervate Flint and ask him."

McGonagall's lips formed a tight line, and she seemed to be considering her options.

"You said Palmer's in your dormitory?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Let's go speak with her," she said. "And bring Flint."

* * *

Madeline awoke to someone shaking her shoulder and saying her name. Bleary-eyed and feeling exhausted, she sat up and rubbed her face.

"Why do I feel like rubbish?" she asked, more to herself than to the two people standing near her.

"I was hoping you could tell me, Palmer," said a voice Madeline knew quite well—Minerva McGonagall. She opened her eyes and saw the professor standing next to Nicolas, and that was when she remembered what had happened.

"I was… I… Flint and…" she said, breathing hard. The memory swam into her mind's eye, and Madeline felt tears sting her eyes. "Nick…."

McGonagall moved to sit next to her student, and she placed a hand on Madeline's back in a comforting way.

"I need you to tell me what happened, Palmer. It's important we tarry not."

Madeline steeled herself, and just as she opened her mouth to tell the story, Oliver burst in, face flushed red and breathing heavily. He took in the sight before him—bruised Madeline sitting on his bed, severe-looking McGonagall next to her, Nicolas standing nearby, and Flint lying unconscious on the floor—and started shaking his head.

"No… no, it can't be… Maddie?"

And as Oliver's concerned eyes met hers, she collapsed into tears. McGonagall, who obviously wanted to settle this matter quickly, glared at Oliver, as he hadn't moved from the door.

"Shut the door, Wood," she instructed, and he complied. "Now, Palmer, dear, I can't help you until you've told me your side of the story."

Madeline nodded, took a few deep breaths, and then explained what happened.

"I was sending a letter to my parents when he came in, and rather than trying to start anything, I just ran for it. In the top corridor, he stunned me and took my wand. Then he… he tied me to the wall and rennervated me… and that's when…"

But Madeline couldn't continue without choking on her tears again, and Oliver, who couldn't stand not holding her anymore, threw his broom aside and pulled her into a gentle hug. She cried for a few moments, then regained her self-control, and turned to face McGonagall, who was standing. While staring at the floorboard near her feet, Madeline spoke, her voice quiet.

"He kept slamming me into the wall because I… I was putting up a fight. He didn't think to silence me, I guess, because I shouted, hoping someone would hear me." At this, Madeline looked at Nicolas, tears falling again. "He ripped my shirt open right before you got there."

At this, McGonagall seemed satisfied with her order of events and turned her attention to Nicolas. Oliver wrapped his arms around Madeline once again.

"You found her, Tennant?"

"Yes, Professor, I heard her shouting."

"Was the scene just as she described?"

"Yes, I had to remove her from the wall myself," said Nicolas, his voice shaking. He cast a furious glare at Flint, who had no idea what was happening. McGonagall, too, looked at the Slytherin with lips so tight they seemed to disappear.

"Did he try to ward you off?"

"He attacked me, too, if that's what you mean," said Nicolas.

"This warrants expulsion, or it would if he were in my House. As it is…"

"Professor, you can't be serious! He attacked the _Head Girl_," cried Nicolas.

"It's not up to me, Tennant," said McGonagall sharply. "We will take Flint straight to Dumbledore. Palmer, I must ask you to accompany me to the Headmaster's office."

Madeline nodded, her head still pressed to Oliver's chest. He didn't let her go.

"Wood, I'll be needing you to release her," said McGonagall, her voice rather tender. "I can assure you she will be quite safe with me."

In the Common Room, McGonagall ordered Oliver to stay behind.

"But Professor—"

"I don't have time to argue, Wood. Stay put or I'll take your broom," she said sharply, turning to leave the Common Room, Flint floating limply in front of her. Nicolas followed McGonagall, but Madeline lingered for a moment.

"I'll be back," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"I'll be here."

Madeline felt fear swirl through her system as they made their way to Dumbledore's office. What would happen to Flint? What would happen to _her?_ Would her inability to protect herself cause her to lose her title? The sight of the massive golden eagle made Madeline nearly vomit, and Nicolas placed a hand on her back in an attempt to comfort her. McGonagall knocked on the door to his office once they were up the spiral staircase, Dumbledore granting them entrance almost immediately. Inside, Professor Lupin was sitting near Dumbledore's desk, and both he and the Headmaster stood as they entered.

"Minerva…" was all he said as they filed in. His blue eyes grazed over the four of them, and Madeline felt her knees go weak with fear and nervousness. Nicolas caught her before she could fall, and Lupin immediately conjured a chair for her.

"Mr. Tennant came to me with a troubling report this morning, Albus," McGonagall said as she let the still-unconscious Flint fall to the floor. She looked to Nicolas, seeming to indicate it was his turn to speak.

"I was on my way to the Owlery to send a letter to my father when I… well, I found the Head Girl pinned to the wall by Marcus Flint. He proceeded to try to stun me, but I disarmed him before he could."

Dumbledore's reaction was mild, while Lupin looked duly horrified. He walked over to Madeline, pulled a bar of chocolate out of his pocket, and handed her a piece.

"How do you feel?" asked Lupin.

"Lightheaded," she said as she slumped into the chair.

"She needs medical attention," said Lupin as he looked at her wrists.

"In a moment, Remus," said Dumbledore. "Minerva, have you questioned Mr. Flint?"

"No, I haven't. I wanted Severus to be present," she said. "Palmer's story is the same as Tennant's."

"Very well," Dumbledore said, turning to a portrait of a haughty-looking man. "Please tell Severus I request his presence."

The portrait nodded and left his frame, and Dumbledore stood and walked closer to Madeline, who refused to meet his eyes. A few moments later, Professor Snape came through Dumbledore's fireplace.

"You called?" he asked, his voice quiet. His black hair looked greasier than usual.

"It would seem that Madeline Palmer has been assaulted by Marcus Flint. As his Head of House, we required your presence before questioning him," said Dumbledore.

"Is that why he is unconscious?" Snape asked, looking at the Slytherin Quidditch Captain.

"Yes, it is," said McGonagall, but she was looking at the Headmaster. "Shall you hear the story from Palmer before questioning Flint?"

"Yes, I daresay we shall. Madeline?" said Dumbledore.

Madeline had been dreading this moment, the moment when she had to relive the incident again, not only in front of the Headmaster, but in front of a professor who would undoubtedly sneer at her and call her a liar. She felt a wave of nausea and closed her eyes, leaning forward as if she would be sick.

"We should call Poppy—" said Lupin, but Dumbledore raised his hand to silence him

"Madeline, please tell us what happened," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Just take the memory from my mind," she cried, her eyes swimming with tears. "I don't want to keep it."

"Very well," said Dumbledore, raising his wand. "I can extract the memory, but it will not be lost to you."

"Wait," said Madeline, her eyes snapping open. She realised that if Dumbledore were to see the memory in its full form, he would see Nicolas beating Flint, and though there was ample cause, she didn't want him to get in trouble… not after saving her. "If it won't erase the memory from my mind, I'll just tell you what happened."

Madeline sat up and met Dumbledore's eyes.

"I went to the West Tower to send my parents a letter because I've been worried about my mum. After Augustus had flown away, Flint came in. He made a comment about my being alone, and I got scared, because he's been threatening me all year."

"What?" said McGonagall sharply. "Why is this the first I've heard of this?"

Dumbledore silenced McGonagall with a look, and Madeline's wide eyes turned back to him. "So I was scared, because he's been making threats all year, and so… I ran from the room. He chased after me, and once we were in the corridor, he stunned me. He took my wand and used some curse to hold me against the wall…"

Madeline's eyes began stinging again at this point, and her throat felt tight.

"When he rennervated me, I started fighting him, and…" Madeline showed them her wrists, which were nearly rubbed raw, as if she had been struggling against ropes. On her forearms there were multiple bruises. "He started hitting me against the wall because I kept shouting. He… then he ripped my shirt open, and then Nick came barreling around the corner. Flint heard him coming, so he tried stunning him, but Nick was able to disarm him first, and then Nick stunned him."

"What happened next?" asked Dumbledore, and Madeline looked away from his eyes over at his massive red and gold phoenix.

"Nick had to take me down from the wall, and I could barely stand, so he carried me to the Gryffindor Tower," she said, her thoughts on Oliver's bed, on where she wished she were.

"Mr. Tennant?" Dumbledore said, turning to Nicolas. "What did you then do?"

"I went back to the West Tower, where I had left Flint. My first concern was Madeline's well-being; I wanted to make sure she was safe," said Nicolas, no trace of nervousness or discomfort in his voice, and Madeline envied him. He sounded completely sure of himself. "I then levitated Flint to McGonagall's study and she's accompanied us since then."

"I questioned Miss Palmer after speaking with Mr. Tennant. We came straight here after I saw her condition," said McGonagall.

"Well," said Dumbledore with a bit of a sigh, "let us now question Mr. Flint. Severus?"

Snape nodded, kneeled down, and rennervated Flint, who coughed and sputtered as he sat up. It took him a moment to take in his surroundings, but upon seeing Madeline and Nicolas, his face paled drastically. Nicolas glared at him, Snape crossed his arms in a mildly irritated manner, and McGonagall simply looked murderous.

A heartstring felt like it had snapped in her chest when Madeline realised her own Head of House was absent.

"Mr. Flint, judging by your reaction, I believe you know why we are all here," said Dumbledore, whose bright blue eyes were remarkably dark.

"No idea," he muttered, avoiding Dumbledore's gaze. Madeline heard Nicolas snort.

"Tell me then, Mr. Flint, why do you believe you are here?" asked Dumbledore.

"I don't know," he cried. "I went to the Owlery and... now I'm here."

"Bullocks!" said Nicolas. "Absolute—"

"Mr. Flint," said McGonagall, cutting Nicolas off, "we have two witnesses claiming you attacked Madeline Palmer, one of them being the Head Girl herself. What do you say to that?"

"I'd say I have no idea what you're talking about," said Flint, a cunning twinkle in his dark eyes. His lips twitched into a momentary smirk.

"There, see? These two clearly have enough time to dream up stories," said Snape, but Dumbledore silenced him, too, with only a look.

"So I'm to assume," said McGonagall, her voice shaking furiously, "that her injuries are merely dreamt up as well?"

"Evidence can be falsified—" began Snape, but Dumbledore had to once again silence the two professors.

"Severus," he said, his tone sharp.

Madeline felt tears well up in her eyes, her face contorting with the effort of restraint. She knew what this was about—Flint was Slytherin's Quidditch Captain, so even if Snape did believe him to be guilty, he wouldn't want him to be kicked off the team or expelled. Dumbledore must have heard her whimper, for he looked at her, and she let her thoughts flow freely. If Dumbledore wanted to know what she was thinking, then so be it. Tears streamed from the corner of her eyes.

"Can I go now? My injuries clearly mean nothing to this argument, but I'd like to see them tended to, if possible," said Madeline, her voice shaking terribly. Dumbledore looked from Madeline to Flint.

"Mr. Flint, do you still claim ignorance of this event, or shall I fetch a vial of Veritaserum?"

"You can't do that! You can't poison me!" cried Flint, and Dumbledore chuckled.

"Oh, I assure you I won't poison you. I would simply render you incapable of lying."

Marcus Flint's eyes grew wide, his face pale.

"Yes, I thought as much. Would you like to confess, then?"

"Fine. I hit her," he said, his tone obstinate.

"You did a great deal more than that, according to the witnesses," said McGonagall.

"They lied, then," said Flint, who had finally found his feet.

"You're calling the Head Girl a liar?" asked Lupin.

"Can I leave now?" she asked, making her meaning perfectly clear. If they weren't going to believe her, the Head Girl, a student who had never before been in any sort of trouble, then what could she do?

"Yes, Miss Palmer, you may leave," said Dumbledore. "We will be able to decide a suitable punishment, I believe, without your assistance."

Madeline stood and nodded at Dumbledore gratefully, and Nicolas came to her side, probably in case she felt weak again. Without a second glance at Professor Snape or Flint, she, Nicolas, and Professor Lupin left the office.

"He's not going to be expelled, is he, Professor?" asked Nicolas, looking at Lupin.

"Unfortunately, no. Severus will not want his Quidditch Captain expelled. I also seriously doubt he will lose his title," said Lupin grimly.

"Of course," said Nicolas tersely. "Gits have to stick together, don't they?"

"Nick," said Madeline, her feet stopping. "Can you get Oliver and then find Claire and Richard? I want them to know before the rumors start."

He looked as though she had asked him to jump off the Astronomy Tower, and a ice-cold shard of guilt pierced her heart.

"Please?"

"Yeah, sure, no problem," he said, his jaw and fists clenching. Madeline reached for his arm, but he turned and strode away before she could reply. Eyes burning with tears again, Madeline caught up with Professor Lupin, who was down the corridor, perhaps in an attempt to afford the two some privacy. It was something her father would have done.

"Professor, I think February is not my month."

"Well, then, be thankful it is almost over," he said with a small smile.

"Am I… am I allowed to be unhappy right now?" she asked, tears springing to her eyes again. She could not recall ever crying so much.

"Yes, I'm afraid you are. You are not, however, allowed to feel guilty, as you have done absolutely nothing wrong. You did not deserve this pain, nor did you deserve the lack of respect with which you were treated a short while ago," said Lupin, his mild voice sharper than usual. He placed a hand on her shoulder. Madeline looked at Lupin, who, she noticed, was looking rather ill. She did not think to consider why, as her body was throbbing painfully, and she was quite looking forward to being in the Hospital Wing, where she knew Madame Pomfrey would take good care of her.

* * *

In the Gryffindor Common Room, Oliver Wood was pacing. Many of his Housemates were walking to breakfast in the Great Hall, but Oliver continued his silent vigil in the Tower, his thoughts racing.

_Flint attacked Madeline. Bloody fucking hell, he finally hurt her. Madeline was almost raped by Flint, who had his filthy hands on her, who ripped her shirt. If Nick hadn't been pissed at his dad, Flint would have had her. If Nick hadn't decided, right when he had, to get to the Owlery, Madeline might still be up there, being assaulted. And right now, Madeline's in pain. She's hurt, and scared, and upset, and I can't bloody do anything because McGonagall didn't have the patience to deal with me. But she needs me. She needs me now more than ever because I couldn't be there for her in the first place. Nick was there, though... he's always been there, hasn't he?_

As a fresh wave of anger hit him, as cold as the Black Lake in February, Oliver kicked the wall near one of the windows, his toes protesting painfully. He'd gone flying, not a care in the world, while Madeline was being forced against a wall and ravaged, and Oliver was sure he would never forgive himself. He plopped into a seat and ran his hands through his short brown hair. The thought of losing Madeline was slowly driving him insane, whether it was losing her heart to Nicolas or losing her completely because of Flint—who knows, he could have ended up killing her.

Before Oliver could kick something else, he heard the portrait hole open, and Nicolas walked in looking pissed.

"What happened?" Oliver asked, standing. "Where's Madeline?"

"She's fine. She's in the Hospital Wing with Professor Lupin and Madame Pomfrey. She asked me to come _fetch_ you," he said, his tone openly bitter. Oliver knew he had to proceed carefully.

"What happened to Flint?"

"We're not sure yet, but he's not losing his title as Captain and he's certainly not being expelled," said Nicolas, his fists clenched. "I hate this! Snape's doing it on purpose so he can win the bloody Cup!"

Oliver kicked the wall again, and then fell back into his seat. Nicolas took a seat in the adjacent chair.

"Are you not going to the Hospital Wing?" Nicolas asked a few moments later as Oliver was rubbing his head again.

"I don't… I don't think so."

"Why the bloody hell not?" asked Nicolas.

"Because I don't think she wants to see me right now," he said, practically mumbling.

"You're shitting me, right? I wasn't bloody joking when I said she asked me to fetch you," said Nicolas, giving Oliver a small shove in the shoulder. "Go see her. She needs you."

"Sometimes I feel like I need her more than she needs me," said Oliver, slumping in his chair.

"Yeah, well, join the club," said Nicolas, laughing grimly. "Start having weekly meetings, shall we? Let's invite Diggory while we're at it."

At this, Oliver and Nicolas laughed like the friends they were. Oliver could tell Nick had been struggling with something lately, but he knew he'd be alright.

"Alright?" Oliver asked as they both stood.

"Yeah, mate," he said, placing a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "You need to treat Maddie like she's Potter's Firebolt, though—either she stays in our dormitory or she's never alone."

"I never told you about the deal we made, did I?" Oliver asked. Nicolas shook his head. "Madeline told me if we beat Ravenclaw, she'd stay with me the night before the Slytherin match. I just wish… I wish she could stay every night."

"I figured it was something to that extent. Honestly, though, I don't want her going anywhere alone for the rest of the year," said Nicolas. "I nearly killed Flint, I swear I did."

"I probably would have, actually. You know, he'll probably be bragging about he almost got away with raping the Head Girl," said Oliver, cracking his knuckles and scowling.

"Oliver," said Nicolas, placing a hand on his shoulder again, "I should be telling you not to worry about Quidditch so much, I _should_… but I won't. Beat them, mate. Beat those bloody bastards into the ground."

* * *

**Chapter 23: Wango Tango**

"My bed isn't nearly this comfortable," he mumbled, half his mouth pressed to a pillow.


	23. Wango Tango

**Chapter 23: Wango Tango**

I'm sorry I keep changing the chapter titles! Please don't hate me! :3

* * *

Madeline remained in the Hospital Wing for the rest of the weekend and on Monday, too. Nicolas refused to allow Flint to start any nasty rumors about what had transpired, so he told the Gryffindors and asked them to spread only the truth—that the Head Girl had been attacked by Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, and that he hadn't been expelled. Many of the Gryffindors weren't terribly concerned, especially since she wasn't hurt too badly, but those who did take personal offense to Flint's attack merely spoke of it as fuel to the fire for the upcoming match. Claire and Richard took it upon themselves to spread word through the Ravenclaw Tower in the hopes that their House, too, wouldn't listen to gossip.

The Hufflepuffs, however, were in a state of complete outrage. Upon hearing the news from Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout stormed to Dumbledore's office and didn't leave for a few hours. Cedric Diggory and the rest of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team tried to appeal to Dumbledore as well, but nothing could be done—he and Professor Snape had come to an agreement of some sort. Though the Hufflepuffs usually remained calm during House conflicts (or at least more calm than the others), they were suddenly much more outspoken against the Slytherin House. Many of the Hufflepuffs took to visiting the Hospital Wing, but Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let in more than a few visitors at a time.

Even more furious than her Housemates, amusingly enough, was Percy Weasley, who had taken the attack so personally as to make Madeline believe he would never recover.

"Honestly!" he cried when he visited Madeline that Sunday, snacking on Pepper Imps, Madeline's least favorite candy. She had offered them to him as soon as he had sat down, as she had received an innocuous (but still annoying) amount of sweets. "Attacking the Head Girl—the nerve! I'm simply _astonished_ he wasn't expelled."

By Monday, it seemed as though the whole school knew about the attack, though no one talked about it with great interest, especially the younger students who had no personal connection with the Head Girl and simply saw her as Percy Weasley's less annoying counterpart. After hearing the news and being properly horrified, most students moved on to their own personal strife. Hermione Granger, though, visited Madeline in the Hospital Wing early on Monday morning. She was visibly upset and told Madeline that Hagrid had lost the case for his hippogriff. Madeline tried to comfort the girl but found herself growing angry at the circumstances. Between Malfoy and Flint, the whole school was going to be out for Slytherin blood by the end of the February.

Despite what had happened, Madeline was in great spirits, undoubtedly because she was looking forward to Fred and George Weasley breaking Flint's bones on the Quidditch pitch in approximately two weeks' time. She had also received a massive outpouring of love that she hadn't been expecting.

Madeline returned to her lessons on Tuesday and was amused to find that Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Sprout did all they could to award Madeline points for Hufflepuff. After Lupin had given her 10 points for producing a nonverbal blocking spell (just as well as Richard, mind you), Madeline brought this up at lunch.

"Does anyone think it's odd that the professors keep awarding me points? I know I was attacked and all, but… I mean, Hufflepuff's as close to winning the House Cup as the Wimbourne Wisps are to winning the League Cup," she said.

Oliver and Nicolas thought this was highly amusing, but Margaret Bradbury, who seemed to have become more of a permanent fixture of their group, was offended.

"That's my team you're speaking ill of!" she cried. "And I'll have you know we're doing much better than last year!"

Nicolas had been looking at Margaret as though she had sprouted horns and burst out laughing at her last remark, and Madeline knew why: Nick was an avid Cannons fan. Claire, Madeline, and Oliver held in their laughter as best as possible she grabbed her book bag and slapped Nicolas across the face. After she had stormed away, they all started laughing.

"I'd had no idea she was a Wisps fan," he said, touching his smarting cheek. "Haven't they lost all of their matches this season?"

"They have," said Madeline, her lips twitching.

"She certainly seems like a handful, Nick," said Richard.

"At least she doesn't like the Tornados," said Claire, pointing a fork at Nicolas. "Or those damned Arrows."

"You know who's been playing really well lately, though? The Magpies," said Madeline, and Oliver rolled his eyes.

"Drop it, Maddie."

"Why does she need to drop it? She's not wrong," said Claire, whose eyebrows were furrowed together. Oliver gave Madeline and Claire a pained look.

"She keeps talking about the Magpies because she thinks I should play for them if Puddlemere's Reserve Team is still full—"

"What?!" shouted Claire, and Richard clumsily knocked over a bowl of fruit in surprise at her sudden outburst.

"I know! It's absurd, honestly—" said Oliver, but she interrupted him as Nicolas helped Richard put the fruit back in the bowl.

"No, that's a great idea! You know how much playing time you'd get?"

"Claire, every lad in Scotland wants to play for the Magpies," said Oliver, looking uncomfortable. Madeline was regretting her decision to sit across from her boyfriend rather than next to him when Nicolas asked them to change the subject for Oliver's sake. Madeline gladly obliged.

"I still don't understand why McGonagall gave me _fifteen_ points for conjuring that sheep. It barely even had a coat," said Madeline, shaking her head.

"Probably because you were the only one who could do it," said Richard with a smile.

* * *

The only conspicuous difference after the attack was that Madeline was never left alone, and she noticed. Of course she noticed. Her friends made it clear that she was not to go anywhere without company. _Word must have spread_, Madeline thought irritably one day, because Madeline was never alone, and it was becoming quite a nuisance. Elaine accompanied Madeline to the showers and to breakfast in the mornings, which was only annoying when they were both grumpy, and Madeline tended to spend the rest of her days with Claire and Richard, who hardly left her side. Nicolas was also around more often than usual, meaning that Madeline was getting to know Margaret better. Claire shared her dormitory with Margaret and was not too thrilled with this change, but Madeline tried to make it work: she wanted Nicolas to be happy, and if that meant letting Margaret Bradbury eat meals with them, then so be it. Claire was decidedly obstinate at first, but Richard eventually made her see reason. As of late, he was usually the only one who could.

By the end of the week, the incomprehensible amounts of work given to the students before the Easter holidays drove the ordeal with Flint from everyone's minds. Oliver, who was practicing Quidditch multiple times a day, barely had time to do all of his assignments. He had been hoping for sympathy from McGonagall, but he (along with everyone else) received nothing but more homework. After six and half years of Hogwarts exam preparation, Madeline assumed they would all be accustomed to how much work they were given, but she and her classmates were all very wrong.

The first day of the holidays was spent in the Library, where all of the seventh and fifth years took refuge. It was quiet enough for Madeline, but it was odd seeing the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan studying for a change. Hermione Granger also joined their ranks—Madeline saw her flitting around the numerous shelves, carrying far too many books, and looking as though she was nearing another breakdown. Madeline had an emergency bar of chocolate in her bag and before she left the library, she gave it to Hermione, who nearly cried when they hugged.

"I dropped Divination," she said with a self-assuring nod.

"That's great, Hermione!"

"I thought you'd like to know," Hermione said, smiling gratefully.

"It's probably for the best. Don't let me distract you from your work, but don't forget to eat once in a while, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, sitting down and returning to her book.

"What was that about?" asked Claire as they walked towards the Great Hall for dinner. Richard and Oliver were talking about Defense Against the Dark Arts further up the corridor.

"Granger has a lot going on right now. I'm pretty sure she's taking more classes than anyone in the entire school."

"How is that possible? How does she make it to all of her lessons?"

"I've no idea, but McGonagall's letting her get away with it, so I'm not too concerned," said Madeline with a shrug. "Except for the poor girl's health—that's what I'm worried about."

"Yeah, she looked like you do after spending all day in the library—"

"Watch it, Denson," said Madeline, pointing a threatening finger at Claire.

"Or what, dare I ask?" she replied, not even turning to look at her friend. Madeline followed her eyes to where they seemed to be glued—Richard's bum.

"Oi! Stop ogling Richard's arse!" Madeline shouted, laughing. "You see it all the time!"

"Not from this angle!" Claire cried defensively. "Usually he and I walk side by side! I mean just _look_ at it!"

"Aaaarrg! My eyes!" said Madeline, still laughing. Richard and Oliver had stopped walking and turned to face their girlfriends at this point.

"Admiring me from behind?" asked Richard, a smirk on his lips. Madeline chortled—Richard didn't smirk… unless it was at Claire.

"Admiring _your _behind's more like it," she said, her eyes glinting and her grin roguish. Oliver took Madeline gently by the arm and led her away.

"This's our cue to leave," he said, smiling and shaking his head.

"They're perfect," she said, taking Oliver's hand.

"Nah, but they're close."

"Who's closer, then, you reckon? Us or Tennbury?"

"Tennbury?" asked Oliver with a chuckle, understanding her meaning. "Really?"

"What's your answer?"

"Nick and Margo, definitely," replied Oliver, trying to keep his face straight. Madeline chucked and gave Oliver a playful shove.

"Well I vote for us," she said, her chin held high.

"Do we have a nickname?"

"Hmmm…. Madliver?"

"That's the best you've got? 'Madliver'?" he asked, his tone disgusted.

"What've you got, then?"

"Hmm... Woolmer?"

Madeline stopped walking long enough to double-up with laughter, and Oliver looked pleased with himself. She nodded her assent as she straightened and regained her composure.

"Yes, I quite like that. I'll have to tell Claire. She thought up the 'Tennbury' name."

"Do you think they'll work? Tennbury, I mean," Oliver asked. His tone was serious, so Madeline took the time to consider his question.

"I'm not sure. But he's giving Margaret a serious shot, I think. And I know she really, _really_ likes him."

"Who doesn't?"

"Fair point," said Madeline. She squeezed his hand, which was rough with calluses. "I feel like we haven't spent any time together this whole week."

"That's because we haven't," Oliver replied heavily. "I'm sorry, Maddie."

"No! No apologies!"

"But it's just—"

"No! We're not going over this again. I want you to win, especially after what Flint did. Everyone wants Gryffindor to win! The Hufflepuffs are foaming at the mouth—if someone doesn't knock the Slytherins from their high horse, there're going to be more fights."

There had been two skirmishes in the past week, and Madeline was sure there were to be more after the holidays. She was quite familiar with Quidditch violence—in her first year, Madeline had been caught in the middle of a Slytherin/Gryffindor scuffle and had been hit with multiple stinging jinxes. Charlie Weasley, who was a fourth year at the time, had carried her to the Hospital Wing. She distinctly remembered Charlie being angry with his teammate for being so reckless, though she couldn't remember the boy's name. In her fifth year, when she was made prefect, Madeline took over forty points away from both Slytherin and Gryffindor because students kept dueling in the corridors.

"I know," said Oliver with a sigh, his voice breaking her reveries. "We've been playing well in practices. It'll all come down to Harry again, though; we'll have to be at least fifty points ahead—"

"Or you win the match but lose the cup," said Madeline, smiling at him. "Yes, I hear you reminding Potter at every meal. He knows, Oliver, and something tells me he won't disappoint you. He's only lost one match, remember?"

"It's just… maddening!"

"You love it," she said with another shove. He grinned, unable to deny it.

After dinner, where they had a peaceful meal at the Hufflepuff table, Oliver and Madeline stopped in the Entrance hall.

"My Common Room or yours?" Madeline asked.

"Well maybe—"

"Wait," said Madeline suddenly, a curious thought coming to mind. "Wait."

"What're you thinking?" Oliver asked, his gaze skeptical.

"Follow me," said Madeline without thinking. She took his hand and sped off towards the basement, walking quickly and too excited to stop.

"Where're we going?"

Silence.

"Er… Maddie?"

Nothing.

"Maddie?"

"Yes?"

"Where're we going?"

A giggle.

A few moments later and…

"Are we there yet?"

"Nope."

"Are we close?"

"I _think_ so. It should be down this corri—yes! There!"

She pointed to the painting of the banana and cucumber doing the tango. When they stopped in front of it, Oliver's eyebrows scrunched together.

"I remember this painting, I think. But Maddie, why're we—"

"Shhhh," she said, squeezing his hand. "Wango tango."

With those words, the portrait creaked open to reveal the same quarters she had seen before with Professor Sprout—a room that was a little smaller than the Hufflepuff Common Room, with similar furnishings (two couches, a circular fireplace, and a table with two chairs) and the same fake windows. Madeline grinned at Oliver's slack-jawed expression and pulled him inside. The portrait closed behind them.

"What is this place?"

"I dunno," Madeline replied. "Professor Sprout checked this room for Black when we were checking the basements. I don't think anyone even knows it's here. I certainly never knew."

"Look," Oliver said, pointing towards the back of the room, where there was a round door that looked identical to the doors in her Common Room. Though his curiosity was piqued, Madeline felt a flash of fear. What if someone was in there? What if… something was locked in there? Why was this room abandoned in the first place?

Oliver dropped her hand and walked over to the door while Madeline didn't move. Once he reached the door, he turned around.

"Coming?" he said, smiling his 'there's nothing to be afraid of' smile. Madeline took a deep breath and joined him, his confidence becoming her own, but she extracted her wand just in case. Oliver followed suit and opened the door, which swung inwards.

Madeline's eyes widened and Oliver's eyebrows shot into his forehead.

It was a bedroom, complete with a wardrobe, a desk, a bookcase, and a large four-poster bed.

_A bedroom?_

Of all the things Madeline had been expecting, this was not one of them.

"Huh," she said, her eyebrows drawing together. "I wonder if this was a professor's quarters at some point."

"I suppose that makes sense," said Oliver, who was looking wistfully at the bed. It was much larger than the beds in the students' dormitories, which Oliver had definitely outgrown. He wasn't the tallest lad at Hogwarts, as he wasn't quite six feet (unlike Nicolas and Richard, who both exceeded that height), but he was tall and broad enough to make it rather difficult to sleep in one small bed with him. The hangings were black and yellow, and there was a patchwork quilt almost identical to the one currently on her bed.

"I wonder if this was… Helga Hufflepuff's private quarters?" Madeline said, the thought startling her a little bit. Oliver, who looked suddenly drowsy, fell onto the squashy bed with a contented sigh. Madeline moved towards the bookcase, which was empty.

"My bed isn't nearly this comfortable," he mumbled, half his mouth pressed to a pillow.

Madeline didn't respond and instead ran her fingers over the empty bookshelf.

Why would it be empty? If this was Helga Hufflepuff's quarters, why wouldn't Professor Sprout stay here? And wouldn't there be books like _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?_

With the slightest of pops, the book appeared on the bookcase, almost as though it had read her mind. Madeline's mouth fell open, her eyebrows pressed together. This was wonderful magic, and Madeline turned to express her astonishment to Oliver—but he was asleep, his mouth open slightly, his feet dangling from the side of the bed.

Madeline smiled and left the bookcase. According to Nicolas, Oliver had been sleeping much less than usual, and this worried her. Rather than trying to wake him, Madeline joined him on the bed and touched his soft brown hair. She had a feeling he wouldn't sleep well until after the game against Slytherin, but at her touch, Oliver stirred, his eyes opening blearily. He hadn't yet fallen asleep fully, and Madeline smiled as he pulled her into his arms.

"Was wondering when you were going to join me," he said, his accent sloppiest when he was sleepy.

"Bit tired?"

"Bit," he replied, nuzzling his face into her neck.

"Not been sleeping well?"

"Not really," he replied, placing a soft kiss near her ear. The coals of her heart stirred as if they had been stoked.

"Mmm," she said as he kissed her neck again. His arms instinctively tugged her closer.

"We should stay here for the rest of the year," he said, his breath warm on her neck.

"We'd get caught eventually," said Madeline.

"Nah. Head Girl privileges," he mumbled, and she smiled, turning to face him.

"Percy wouldn't allow it."

"Jealous git," he replied. His eyelids were drooping. Madeline stifled a laugh and kissed his nose.

"What sort of goodnight kiss was that?" asked Oliver, a lazy smile on his lips.

"It wasn't one?"

"Good answer," he said before pressing his lips to hers.

Though he had been half-asleep the minute before, his hand was wide awake, touching her cheek, then holding the back of her head, and finally getting lost in her hair. Without detaching his lips from hers, Oliver shifted his weight so that his feet weren't hanging off the side of the bed. Their kiss deepened once he was settled again, and Madeline took fistfuls of his shirt as he pulled her closer. Without warning, Oliver's hand moved down her side, lifted her shirt, and found the bare flesh of her waist. Though rough, his hand ignited the fire that had been threatening to grow. Unsure of what to do next, Madeline pressed her body closer to his and wrapped her leg over his hip to secure the closeness. They had been lying next to each other, but with Madeline's leg draped over him, Oliver decided to fall on his back and pull Madeline on top of him. She broke the kiss, shocked to be straddling him, and met his gaze, which was still tinged with sleep.

Oliver sat up to meet her, the muscles in his torso contracting, and Madeline felt as though he had set her ablaze, all of her. He touched her face, gently caressing her cheekbone with his callused hand, and delivered to her lips the same slow, tender kiss he had given her at Christmas. As his tongue worked with hers, Madeline felt as though she was slowly dissolving into him, every particle of her being begging to mingle with his.

Oliver was sitting up fully now, her legs wrapped around his waist. Madeline was contentedly playing with his hair, distracted by the feeling of his lips on hers, when she heard the noise—it was a slight _pop_, much like the sound of someone apparating. Pulling away from Oliver, Madeline turned her head to face the other room.

"Did you hear it too?" Oliver asked, his voice low and rough. Madeline extricated herself from Oliver and stood from the bed.

"It's impossible to apparate inside Hogwarts," she whispered, taking her wand from its place on the desk. She didn't recall placing it there. "Except for…"

With another distinct pop, a house-elf appeared on the bed next to Oliver, who shouted and jumped away from it. The house-elf was small and had huge, watery green eyes, and it was wearing a white pillowcase with the Hogwarts crest embroidered on it.

"No students are allowed in this room," said the house elf in a quivering, high-pitched voice. "Hilly will be in troubles if they finds you, yes she will! Hilly is a good house-elf, she is!"

The house-elf stepped down from the bed and raised its face to Madeline, looking both scared and angry.

"The Head Girl ought to know better, yes she should," said Hilly, whose eyes were trained on Madeline's badge. "The Head Girl must want Hilly to be punished…."

"I'm sorry," said Madeline quickly, and she pocketed her wand. "We didn't know what this room was, so we—er, we investigated. We can leave."

"You are not meaning to get Hilly in troubles?" the house-elf said, her gaze meeting Madeline's. Oliver stood from the bed and began straightening the pillows and quilt.

"No, no, sir! You must not be doing that! That is Hilly's job, that is!" cried the house-elf as she clambered up on the bed and swatted Oliver's hands away. He backed away, hands raised in submission, and gave Madeline a quirky look.

"Er, Hilly, dear, we can leave. We weren't trying to get you in trouble," said Madeline as kindly as possible. The house-elf turned to her and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hilly is supposed to keep this room clean and tidy for visitors. Hilly wants no troubles," said the house-elf, who was facing Madeline. Oliver joined her near the desk.

"We don't want any trouble either," said Madeline, smiling. "Hilly, was this a professor's room before?"

"It was, miss Head Girl, yes," said Hilly, swinging her bare feet. "Tibby told Hilly the great Hufflepuff lady, the one responsible for bringing us house-elves to Hogwarts, used to live here. Tibby says cleaning this room is a great duty, very important."

"So this was Helga Hufflepuff's room," said Madeline, looking around the room with a new-found respect.

"Tibby told Hilly that new Hufflepuff lady prefers a room closer to the Hufflepuff dormitories. That's where Hilly first started cleaning."

"Hilly," said Oliver tentatively, "how much trouble would we be in if we wanted to stay in this room?"

The house-elf's eyes widened to be even larger, and Madeline smacked Oliver's arm.

"Hilly would be given clothes," she said, her voice nearly a whisper. Tears welled up in her green eyes, so Madeline sat next to her and placed a comforting hand on the house-elf's shoulder.

"We'll be going right now, as we don't want you to be given clothes. It was nice to meet you Hilly," she said.

Oliver and Madeline walked out of the bedroom and into the Common Room-looking area, and Hilly followed them.

"The Head Girl is very kind," said Hilly, her squeaky voice making Madeline halt.

"Thank you, Hilly. I hope you have a good evening."

"Miss Head Girl?"

"Yes, dear?"

"If you ever need Hilly, just call, and I can try to help," said the house-elf, who was wringing her spindly hands together.

Madeline smiled, beaming at the house-elf, and said, "Thank you. I certainly will."

* * *

The following week tested Madeline as she had never been tested before. The enmity between Gryffindor and Slytherin was at an all-time high, and she and Percy were at their wit's end dealing with scores of disciplinary problems. She couldn't recall it ever being this bad, even when Charlie was on the team. Percy took to striking points from anyone who even threatened another student, and Madeline was constantly on her guard, which was exhausting in and of itself.

The seventh years were all on edge, what with the impending NEWTs and the highly-charged atmosphere before the last Quidditch match of the year. All of the professors were still assigning homework for them, but none more so than Snape, who set a record of five essays the week before the last match, undoubtedly in an attempt to fail Oliver. Madeline, however, had anticipated this—she had forced him to draft multiple essays that Sunday in preparation because she knew he wouldn't have any time or energy during the following week. Though he had been frustrated with her then, Madeline knew he would be thankful later. Oliver was so distracted by trying to protect Potter (who apparently had a small army of enemies trying to trip him up and hex him wherever he went) and by the upcoming match that Madeline fell into the background of his life.

Madeline had anticipated this as well, but she didn't realise how hard it would be. She took to spending even more time with Claire and Richard, and she spent more time at the Hufflepuff table that week than she had in a long while. Her mood was already dismal from dealing with the numerous fight outbreaks and not seeing Oliver as often as usual kept it from improving. Thursday afternoon Madeline hid in the Library, as she always did when she wasn't feeling particularly social, and Nicolas found her.

"Hi," he said.

She didn't even look up from the book she was transcribing for Ancient Runes. Even Professor Babbling was assigning homework that week.

"No offense, but I don't want to talk right now," she said in response.

"You're not supposed to be alone," Nicolas said as he leaned back in his seat across from her and propped his feet up on the table, looking more casually handsome than usual. Madeline looked up, but her gaze was hard.

"Nick, what do you want?"

"You're not supposed to be alone," he repeated, as though she was incapable of comprehending his words.

"I can't believe you're still going on about that," she said, her tone impatient. "Flint's not going to attack me again—he'd be expelled for sure. Dumbledore would override Snape's decision; Professor Sprout told me that herself."

"Flint has cronies who do whatever he asks, and just because Oliver's forgotten about your safety doesn't mean I have."

At this, Madeline felt anger flush her cheeks. Who was he to comment on Oliver's priorities? Nicolas had nothing to do except the same homework as everyone else.

"You act like you didn't see it coming," Madeline said, checking her temper. "He's been waiting for this match for years. Of course he's distracted."

"You're more important than a Quidditch Cup, Maddie," said Nicolas. His gaze did not waver, his bright blue eyes piercing like Dumbledore's. Madeline looked back down at her book.

"It's important to his future."

"_You're_ supposed to be his future," said Nicolas, who had removed his feet from the table and was leaning towards her.

Madeline's anger flared back up, but Nicolas picked the perfect place to confront her—she couldn't yell at him while they were in the Library. He always made her so angry, and half the time she didn't even know why.

"I'm a part of it, yes. The other part is his getting his dream job, and if that means being busy for a week, then so be it," said Madeline, her voice nearly a hiss.

"So you're not upset that he's more concerned about Potter?"

"He has every right to be concerned about Potter! Hell, _I'm_ worried about Potter!"

"He's still been ignoring you all week!"

"Just because we haven't been eating together doesn't mean he's ignoring me. We see each other in class every bloody day, and for Merlin's sake, we have the rest of our lives to be together! A week won't kill me."

"It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself," said Nicolas.

"Maybe I am," said Madeline, her tone harsh. "Either way, it's no concern of yours."

Nicolas held her gaze until she looked away, a confusing array of emotions swirling in her chest.

"I…" he said, but his voice trailed away. Madeline looked back up at him. It was unusual for Nicolas to speak before thinking, and he hardly ever flubbed his words. He looked pained.

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Madeline," he said, his tone somber. Her heart felt like it was beating in her temple, and her lips parted in shock.

"Do what, exactly?" she asked.

"I can't… do _this_," he said, and gestured between the two of them. "This thing we've been doing, trying to still be friends…."

"I thought we _were_ still friends," Madeline said, shaking her head. "You told me you were happy for me… for me and Oliver! And he's your best friend!"

"You don't think I know that? You don't think I've been trying to shelve my feelings for you? I kill and bury them, Margaret the ax and the shovel, and they rise from the dead every time I see you. Every day, every lesson, every meal is a bloody _struggle_ because I have to see you happy with my best friend. And this week, he's ignoring you, so of course I'm furious—"

"Nick…" said Madeline quietly, tears welling in her eyes.

"No, Madeline, no. Don't you do that to me—don't say my name like you actually give a _damn_ for how I feel!" he said with a raised voice. Thankfully they were in the back of the Library and there was no one around them. He stood.

"Stop!" she said, standing with him. "You don't get to do this to me. You ended this yourself! You broke things off, and for a while, you broke _me!_ So you don't get to make me feel guilty for any of this!"

His expression was blank, and Madeline knew that to be bad—better Nicolas Tennant be angry than resigned.

"You're right. I ended things between us," he said, nodding ever so slightly. "And I will never forgive myself."

A shard of ice ripped through Madeline's chest, and as Nick turned to walk away, Madeline grabbed his arm. He tried to shake her off, but she grabbed his arm again. Tears dripped from the corners of her eyes when she blinked.

"Let me go," he said, his shoulders slumping.

"No."

Nicolas turned to meet her teary-eyed gaze, and as he did, the same urge that had possessed him in his dormitory came over him again.

This time, he did not wipe away her tears.

* * *

**Chapter 24: The Match**

"Oliver… we—er, well… we need to talk."


End file.
